Agent Fatal: The Light In Your Eyes
by DZHoneyBee
Summary: Aaron Hotchner is a driven and determined man, tormented by demons and possessed by the need for control and balance. But what happens when he encounters genius Dr. Spencer Reid, the young and forbidden target of his dark desires who threatens to unravel his whole world? Watch as the pair ignite the perfect storm of passionate seduction and divine manipulation.
1. Confessions

Spencer Reid shifted furtively across the bed, feeling the crisp duvet slide smoothly against his ankles as his slacks were drawn up with the small movement. The surface was warm…comforting…something that Aaron Hotchner needed now.

Listening to how a father could completely abandon his lost son in the woods after so many months had smoldered deep within Hotch that morning. It just wasn't _right_. It caused him to clench his fingers into the palms of his hands so tightly that they would most likely bruise in the morning. He had seen cruel and gruesome sights in his line of work but at this peak in time, it seemed to be piling on top of him.

There had been snippets of comfort at the close of the day as the team retired to their hotel rooms to rest – a pat on the shoulder from Rossi, a hug from Emily – they all understood that these cases affected Hotch the most because of his duel role as both an agent and father. It was difficult to sometimes separate the two.

Only Reid had noticed Hotch's uncharacteristic uneasiness. The way his traditionally calm hands shook with rage and the darkened lines that crossed his brow intensified as the older agent continued to rub his temples, indicating an oncoming headache. And that was how the young genius found himself sitting on Hotch's hotel bed, surrounded by scattered photographs and case files.

It was late…or early into the morning, neither agent was aware,…but Reid had known Hotch wasn't asleep. How could he sleep at a time like this? Hotch still donned his suit and his chocolate brown ¾ zip sweater had been tossed onto a chair in a shadowy corner. He was all business until Reid had entered into the room.

The bedside table lamp cast an insignificant shadow across the two huddled forms. Insignificant in the vast darkness of the room but it brought out the chocolate flecks in Hotch's dark, unforgiving and pain-filled eyes. Reid's own brown eyes were speckled with amber and green hues and glowed a bright gold as he worked hard to bury the great ache that burned within his chest.

Rarely the aggressive or even forth-coming BAU member, he was filled with the overwhelming desire to wrap Hotch in his long arms, to hold him close and to murmur that it was all going to be okay. He understood the pain too. He witnessed the same sights that Hotch did. He concealed the tears just as the older agent did when they were called to clean up a mess such as this one.

"Hotch..." Reid murmured, placing a tentative hand on his superior's sharp shoulder. Hotch stiffened but did not deter from the gesture. "Maybe you should lie down-"

You don't know what I should do." Hotch ground out, balling the hands that held his face up into white-knuckled fists. _Why was Reid even here? He needed to mind his own business_, Hotch thought darkly to himself.

The plains of his hands blushed a faint pink and Reid slid his shaking limb down to brush lightly over them. They loosened ever so slightly and Hotch let out a shudder.

"You're right. I don't." Reid started softly. The pain erupted further, spreading like a deep paper cut. Why couldn't Hotch understand? Reid had the uncanny ability to peer through the alpha male façade to see the man underneath the bulletproof suit. Without the sharp edges of his jacket and the glittering gold of his Bureau name plate Hotch was simply Aaron, a man who had thickened and simultaneously dulled over the years working in such a gruesome occupation. He didn't need to keep the walls up around Reid.

There was mercy where there was weakness and a shadow of deep, cavern walls.

He reminded Reid of an old prizefighter – rough around the edges with a great passion that ignited deep within his belly – an obsession to achieve perfection in his own eyes.

The familiar cold sweat of guilt seeped through Reid as though he had been plunged into an unending pool of water. He _didn't_ understand. And he shouldn't try to. But he couldn't hinder himself to crawl deep within Hotch's shrouded and cloaked masquerade. His hungry desire for knowledge spawned all creases of life and that included his coworker's business.

"I want to help." Reid continued, bitterness creeping into his tone.

_Let me in, you stubborn ass. _

"Let me see the light in your eyes." He murmured, boldly taking his hands to cover Hotch's fists. His heart slammed against his rib cage, clawing desperately to leap to greater heights. A trickle of sweat ran the length of his spine.

Hotch bit out a broken laugh.

"You never cease to amaze me, Spencer." Reid drew in a short breath at the mention of his first name. He smiled despite himself and the situation.

"Hotch…._ Aaron_. These cases…. if anything, they're a reminder that we shouldn't take for granted what we have. You have a son who loves you and admires you. A team that would take myriad of bullets if so much as a furrow creased your brow…we're a family, Aaron. You need to tell yourself that. No serial killer is going to split us apart, even if we have to be the witnesses to other families being fragmented by such cruel methods.

Hotch was momentarily surprised that the young genius's speech was devoid of statistics and lecture-like qualities. Reid was speaking purely from the heart. He might even be right.

"We need you, Aaron." Reid frowned at the sight of his long fingers, his awkward hands, wrapped over gun-calloused, strong, and determined knuckles. "I… I need you."

Hotch stole a glance at Reid as he registered the man's words.

He sighed, the internal battle he had been fighting with this past week only now winding down to a glimmer of what it previously was. It _was_ cases like these that should serve to show Hotch the light in his life – his son, his team. He wouldn't be half the man he was without them. He was positive about that. Reid was correct in pointing that out. His honest answer, however, served to bring out a side of Hotch he was unaware he possessed.

He slid down the headboard, shedding his suit jacket and tie before rolling the sleeves of his crisp white shirt up towards his elbows. Muscled forearms were exposed and Reid swallowed.

"You must think I'm so weak…" Hotch murmured under his breath. It was a soft admission but Reid caught it in the silent air.

Just the two of them. It was a safe space.

He slid to sit on his haunches, perpendicular to the Unit Chief's powerful thighs, hips and trim waist. He put a hand on one of Hotch's forearms, the skin impossibly warm it felt as though it would leave an imprint on Reid's shaking palm.

"You're wrong." His voice was quiet but remained firm. "Confront the dark parts of yourself, and work to banish them with illumination and forgiveness. Your willingness to wrestle with your demons will cause your angels to sing. Use the pain as fuel, as a reminder of your strength."

"Austin Wilson said that," Hotch smiled. Wilson was one of his favorite writers from the 1940s and had off-handedly mentioned it once to Reid after a case. If he was not mistaken, he had recited that same quote.

Of course Reid would remember that.

"He's one of your favorite writers," Reid swept his eyes downwards, embarrassed that he would remember something so small. "Eidetic memory…"

Hotch studied Reid. He watched the way Reid's lithe, delicate fingers curled in on themselves, folded precariously into his lap. Watched the plains of his thighs as they were stretched tautly under black slacks. Watched pouted lips open slightly to allow warm, uneven breaths to escape.

"I don't think that has anything to do with having an eidetic memory." Hotch was careful with his choice of words.

While he was with women his entire life, Hotch could appreciate Reid's angular and unorthodox masculinity He was still slim but had developed more muscle over the years working for the FBI. His facial features remained the same: large, expressive hazel eyes, sharp, pronounced cheekbones that ran like prominent ridges parallel to a sloped nose and lips that begged to be kissed and explored.

But Hotch couldn't cross the line. He wouldn't let himself. Aaron Hotchner, former prosecutor and lethal Unit Chief of the Behavioral Analysis Unit _could_ not and _would_ not put his profession on the preverbal line for Spencer Reid, a slightly unstable, albeit unfathomably smart and sweet, young man. He had everything to lose and potentially nothing to gain. It was unknown as to whether Reid would even be _interested_ in a man…let alone a man like Hotchner, a robotic, obsessive creature that would forever be defined by the four dark walls of his office and the unrelenting pressure his job pressed down upon his broad shoulders.

"We remember what is held dear to one's heart by those who we value in our own heart." Reid replied, wiggling his toes as he moved to sit cross-legged in front of his superior. The white stars that were aligned along the edge of his left sock rippled with the movement and Hotch smiled at the sight. After watching Jack listen to Reid's reasoning as to why he mismatched his socks one night when the team had been invited over, Jack had insisted on doing the same thing.

"Who are you quoting from, Reid?"

"The heart." Reid whispered, the earnest answer clear in his quiet tone.

Hotch laid a determined hand on Reid's wrist and felt it tremble in response.

"What do you want in life, Spencer?" Hotch asked. It wasn't his traditional, hard tone in which we said it either. It was of a soft, inquisitive nature.

Reid's brow drew together in concentration as he pondered the question, letting the answer roll around on his tongue as his computer-like brain worked to connect coherent words and transfuse them into one efficient sentence.

"To find love. To have love and to be loved."

It wasn't the answer Hotch was expecting…or even hoping for. And, surprisingly, it only made the tension flash brighter in the back of his mind – a searing desire to need, to _want_ to be needed by Reid. To love him and to be loved by him.

Hotch's silence only spurned Reid to elaborate on his abstract answer.

"The kind of love where two individuals share significant but completely and simultaneously insignificant passions together…like…-like first kisses in cars, and appreciating the sound of wind chimes when they come into contact with one another…decorating for the holidays and watching sci-fi movies together. Butterfly kisses and sleeping late."

Hotch remained silent as he pressed his lips together to suppress an oncoming smile. In such a small answer, the case seemed a million miles away. Reid and him were in their own oasis. The bed they were currently sitting on was an island, surrounded by the heaving masses of reality where they could escape.

It felt like hours though it was probably only minutes before Reid was beginning to backtrack. He should have kept his mouth shut. It was always getting him in trouble.

He should have just told Hotch he wanted to become a fireman.

Finally the Unit Chief spoke.

"Thank you…"

"For what?"

"For…helping me climb out of the darkness." Hotch ran lazy figure eights over Reid's slender wrist, enjoying the tingling feeling in his rough fingertips and the heated blushes that appeared like constellations across Reid's neck and jaw.

Reid shuddered under the hardened gaze as his eyes traced Hotch's hands. He was afraid of them. They had beaten a cold-blooded serial killer to death. They had monstrous qualities to them, scars that would never be erased.

Right now though, in the fading light of the bedside lamp, they looked…soft. Loving even. Hugely separated from the tools that had single-handedly taken down Foyet and fired probably thousands of clips of bullets from numerous guns. They had the knowledge of what it was like to end a life. Could they bring relief?

"You know, I came here looking for solace from…someone. You-you always seemed to have it pulled together and I thought maybe I could learn from something from you."

"Reid. _Spencer_. This job…has its tolls. You knew that, I'm sure, entering into this occupation. I was concerned during your first few years here that this would ruin you. And now it's been, what? In almost seven years, I have seen you come so far. I'm…. well, I'm _proud_ of you."

The hammering in Hotch's chest, the natural protective manner that came out frequently during cases, was drawn out again as Reid lay down next to him, eyes burning bright.

"Thank you for letting me see the light in your eyes."

Both men studied each other in the dim lighting of the bedroom before Hotch smiled peacefully, a rare thing onto itself, and Reid quickly followed. He fluffed the pillow that his short, wavy, chestnut hair spilled across, admiring how Hotch's own dark hair was neat and efficient-looking.

"Seeking solace?" Hotch turned to face Reid's back and put a tentative hand on a slim shoulder. He began to rub small, slow, deliberate circles over Reid's back for what seemed like an eternity. Every now and again, his hand would slip up to massage the base of the young man's neck and then drop down to his lower back and rub the ridges of his spine.

"I believe we both needed it," was what Reid whispered as he leaned over and gently switched off the light, effectively plunging both agents into a shadowy vortex.

He snuggled into Hotch's embrace, seeking solace where it was offered.

The sliver of light that escaped through the underside of the door lit both the agent's eyes before they closed for the night.

It was the only light needed in their eyes.

* * *

><p><strong>Just testing the waters with this one! Will continue if you all would like? <strong>

**Please review! It makes me smile!**


	2. Movements

Swirling shadows danced over the darkened and unwelcoming ceiling as Hotch rested dry eyes on the patterns made in front of him. Reid had fallen asleep perhaps hours ago and yet Hotch remained flat on his back, his legs half buried under tangled sheets, one shiny-tipped loafer dangling from his toes. His right hand continued to draw shapes over Reid's back and he took comfort in how the young man's rhythmic breathing calmed his mechanical heart. Made him feel more human.

The room was eerily silent but Hotch's mind was a storm of emotions. He was fighting his predatory heart with his sharp head. To feel this way outside of the field wasn't normal. To feel this undulating tension in his belly was something he frequently associated with standing steady-footed in front of an Unsub, gun poised, calloused fingers wrapped around the trigger. And he worked hard to contain those feelings in those uncertain moments. Pleasantry was savored for times with Jack, and for dinners with the team over cold Chinese food or a steaming plate of pasta at Rossi's.

Hotch was all too aware that he came across as a man-made prison. He appeared steely in good company and it had driven him to the position he held now. It had gotten him far in life and he preferred to keep it that way. No one should know that their Unit Chief was battling against inappropriate thoughts for their youngest member…or even possessing a sort of turmoil common in actual humans.

For Hotch wasn't human.

Hotch was Hotch.

He let a soft groan escape from his lips as he threw his head against the pillow in frustration. His free hand came up to rub the bridge of his nose in a pinched attempt to control himself from suffocating the man lying next to him with his own bare hands. It was either that option or letting his hands wander to places on Reid where they shouldn't.

There was no light.

Despite Reid's attempts, Hotch was a man set in concrete lines.

The glimmer in his eyes dimmed momentarily as Reid stirred in his sleep and he resumed tracing trails over the young agent's ribs, watching as the fabric of his button down shirt dented under his touch.

* * *

><p>Reid's eyes fluttered open to the whisper-soft moan that rose out of the man lying next to him. He paused his breath from signaling to Hotch that he had awoken and only when he made a small movement of protest against the man's outstretched arm did he resume the comforting rubbing that had allowed Reid to sleep peacefully to begin with.<p>

He had hoped that Hotch would've fallen asleep with him after their conversation came to a close. The man needed it. He needed to be exhausted and dragged into a bed before he could rest. And the young genius was all too aware that that day would not be anytime soon. There were parts of Aaron Hotchner that Reid found simultaneously threatening and fascinating. The ability to compartmentalize such a wealth of experience was not beyond Reid's mental capacity just as it was Hotch's but the young agent had deliberately chosen not to follow down that path. Gideon had recognized that and had escaped in time.

Reid nestled his head against the pillow in what he hoped was a believable movement of sleep and not simply a ploy to shift closer to Hotch. The sound of that _moan_, however, played itself on repeat in his mind. It was somewhere between a breathy plea and a resonance of frustration. Reid briefly wondered if that was the noise Hotch made in bed. In bed while participating in sexual acts. Preferably with Reid, himself.

_Doubt it,_ Reid thought to himself as he strained to fall asleep again. But he knew sleep was out of the question now that he knew Hotch was awake too. Or still awake from earlier.

The red light of the alarm clock on the bedside table read 4:21 am though it had only felt like minutes since Reid had initially closed his eyes.

The bed shifted as Hotch transferred his weight to his left side, letting his arm slide further over Reid's waist with his hand dangling over his hip. In response, breath hitched in his throat, Reid nuzzled further into the bed and further into Hotch's casual embrace.

It was as though they were playing parts in an awkward courting dance. One man would make one move, the other another while at the same time both men were probably aware of the other's intentions. They had to find a pathway to move around, to avoid each other while keeping each other in their proverbial line of vision. After all, they were profilers. It was their job to read these signs of intentional movement. Lives depended on it.

"Reid." Hotch's voice sliced through Reid's errant thoughts and through the silence of the hotel room. Proficient. Devoid of emotion. As though the last few hours of slowly breaking down his alpha male mask and moving into somewhat of an affectionate embrace had never existed in anything other than a hopeful fantasy.

The arm slithered away from Reid's form and returned to rest on its owner's sternum, determined fingers drumming determined taps over buttons on his shirt.

Reid rolled over, fingers already starting to quake in fear of what his superior would do or say in response to his subordinate's inappropriate actions.

He was met with a pair of dark eyes, made even darker by the frowning brow that shadowed them carefully. When was Hotch _not_ frowning? _Did he frown while he showered? Brushed his teeth?_ Reid blinked to clear these thoughts from his mind.

"Did I wake you?" Hotch asked, sitting up against the headboard. He was not about to lie down across from his younger agent while they stared into each other's eyes like a pre-teen girl's sleepover tradition.

"Why can't you sleep?" Reid countered, surprising himself with his bold tone. He wasn't ever this forward with his Unit Chief. But then again he had never been placed in this position where both men were lying together in a hotel bed while the rest of the world slept seemingly peacefully. If Reid strained to hear, he could probably focus in on Rihanna's "Talk That Talk" playing from Morgan's hotel room while the man most likely was doing pushups and getting prepared to take a pre-dawn run around the premises.

It seemed as though sleep was the last thing on anyone's mind.

Hotch sighed and closed his eyes, resting his head against the shifty piece of wood that was currently masquerading as something resembling a headboard.

Shafts of weakened light were starting to crawl through the blinds, illuminating the gentle slope of Reid's nose and cascading rays of chocolate brown through Hotch's slightly mussed hair.

It could have been determined as romantic in any situation other than the tense predicament these agents were caught in. An uncertain limbo of sorts.

"I thought we talked through these things…" Reid murmured, that same bitter quality coming through in his tone.

"Reid."

"Hotch, don't patronize me. Talk me to as a companion. Not as your subordinate. What's the matter?" There was a pleading sense to the young agent's statement. As though he truly cared for the Unit Chief.

If _only_ Hotch could come clean and tell him.

The older man shifted so he was facing away from Reid, long legs dangling over the edge of the bed. It was an obvious dismissal from the conversation and Reid was tempted to pull at his hair in irritation that Hotch could be so flippant with him.

So indifferent. So inhuman.

"Please. _Aaron_." Reid whispered, moving from lying down to sitting on his knees behind Hotch's curved back. Through the delicate fabric of his button-down, Reid could discern muscled shoulders and sharp shoulder blades to compliment them.

Hotch rubbed the bridge of his nose in angst. He didn't want this conversation. He had not intended for this to ever become a reality.

But he turned around despite his inner protests. Because that was what a Unit Chief did. He listened to his team members; he supported them in their choices. He protected them.

"Where did that light go?" Reid continued.

Hotch didn't…_couldn't_ look at him in the eye.

Without thinking, for once in his life most likely, Reid reached a trembling and tentative hand over to Hotch's forehead, using the tip of his thumb to smooth over the deepened lines that had become permanent fixtures in Hotch's expressions since Haley died.

He did it over and over again before he reached Hotch's hairline and then dropped his hand to his thigh. Hotch's shoulders had significantly lowered as signs to Reid's soothing gestures.

Both men were silent. Both bordering on crossing the line of superior and subordinate.

Hotch lifted awakened eyes to study Reid's face. He noticed the angry indents in Reid's pouted lips and frowned. They were roughly the shape of Reid's razor sharp front teeth and served as evidence to show Reid had been aggressively biting his bottom lip again.

"Don't bite." Hotch murmured, reaching a finger to touch the temporary scars.

Reid breathed in and Hotch immediately grimaced. He sounded like he was talking to Jack instead of a twenty-nine-year-old. Reid blushed in the glow of the Pennsylvania morning.

"Sorry," he breathed.

There was silence between the two men and Hotch suddenly realized he still had the pad of his rough thumb gently brushing back and forth across Reid's bottom lip, similar to how Reid had caressed his forehead.

They continued with these small, affectionate movements, neither man willing enough to take the significant step.

"Spencer. Thank you…again. This thing that's…eating at me. It's not that easy to fix. But thank you for being here. Being there for me. It makes it a little easier to ignore the pain."

"There shouldn't be pain. Well, actually...typically pain is present in all-"

"Reid."

"Sorry…"

"We should get some sleep. We'll need fresh eyes to look back over our profile in the morning."

Reid swallowed, determined to not let Hotch off the hook but his eyes were slowly closing as the light dimmed again behind a tree branch outside. The room was once more bathed in darkness.

"Just…just don't let whatever is eating you swallow you. You're a good man, Aaron. And I care about you."

_God, you have no idea how much I want to care for you too,_ Hotch thought.

Reid shifted over the mattress back to his side and lay back down, defeated. He drew the covers over his shoulders and then his head and felt Hotch do the same and came to find a warm hand seek out his.

Fingers curled over soft knuckles, their hands bound together in a loose handshake.

As Reid lay in the dark, wide awake, his impressive mind flowed, if only to justify the contact.

_Oh, when you were young_

_Did you ever love someone_

_So much you couldn't bare the thought of losing them_

_Well I remember the sleepless nights_

_When I'd lie awake_

_If only I could tell you how I feel…_

* * *

><p><strong>Please review and tell me what you guys think! How should this continue?<strong>

***Song lyrics are from Until June's "Sleepless"**


	3. Promises

"Reid…_Reid_. It's time to get up."

A gentle hand rubbed over Reid's shoulder, tugging at his shirt, causing the youngest BAU agent to moan in protest and bury his nose into the pillow that lay below his head.

"Five more minutes," Reid mumbled, the fog of sleep still too thick in his mind to decipher whom he was talking to and what the situation was.

"_Spencer_. Wheels up in thirty." The voice was a bit more insistent this time around.

"Mmmm mmm," Reid shook his head, running a hand over his face. He dug the heels of his palms into his eyelids in an attempt to quicken the process of waking up. His hazel eyes opened to a lit room and to Hotch's skeptical morning expression.

_Oh sweet Jesus. Hotch. _

Reid shot up from his place in bed, heart beating wildly.

"Good morning," Hotch raised an eyebrow that put Reid strangely at ease all of a sudden. He studied the dark eyes that studied him right back. They weren't narrowed in their traditionally pensive frown. Instead, Hotch looked…peaceful.

Well, actually, peaceful wasn't quite the correct word. But it was as peaceful as Hotch was going to get.

"Hey," Reid whispered, his voice hoarse from sleeping with his mouth open all night.

"Wheels up soon. We're all done here so we're heading to North Dakota now."

Reid nodded. As his eyes shifted across the room he realized two things: Firstly, Hotch had already packed for him. His navy blue pea coat was lying on top of his go-bag along with his purple scarf, his loafers already unlaced and ready to go. Had Hotch gone to fetch everything from Reid's original room? That also meant the man had seemingly gone through Reid's things to retrieve fresh clothes. Reid frowned momentarily, trying desperately to remember if he had left anything embarrassing in there though what only came to mind was the four completed crossword puzzle books he had done in his room before ambling over to Hotch's last night.

Secondly, Hotch was still leaning over Reid. Their faces were close enough for the tips of their noses to touch in an almost-Eskimo kiss. One warm hand was placed on the center of Reid's chest as though Hotch had been rubbing it at one point but had seemingly changed his mind and was just pressing down to quell any romantic thoughts.

Reid could smell the hint of strong mint toothpaste that escaped from Hotch's pressed lips and he thought back to how he had run his fingers over his superior's forehead last night. _Oh God._ Reid remembered how close Hotch and him had come to crossing that forbidden barrier into No-Mans-Land. It was an unseen terror that worked to keep fraternization rules in place among FBI agents. Their tentative touches towards each other – Hotch smoothing his thumb over Reid's lips and Reid experimentally smoothing back Hotch's stiff hair – had been pushing their boundaries. It felt like last night had been another world, another reality. In the harsh light of the morning, truths were revealed: nothing happened and perhaps nothing ever would. Reid touched his fingers together, missing the feeling of Hotch's warm hand curled around his.

"Hotch." Reid whispered. "You're crushing me." He dropped his gaze from those tantalizingly dark eyes to the possessive hand stretched across Reid's sternum.

"Oh, sorry," Hotch immediately removed his hand and eased up off of his subordinate. Reid let out a breath and swung his long legs from the bed to the floor, shivering suddenly.

The way Hotch was acting towards him was a little uncanny. Freud's theory of the uncanny immediately came to mind: the familiar…and the unhomely. Hotch was still frowning as he efficiently snapped his watch closed over his wrist but the way he had woken Reid up was more…_Aaron_.

Reid almost wanted to roll his eyes at the last time he had had to share a room with Hotch – he had practically been assaulted when Hotch had meant to nudge Reid only slightly to awaken him. The young genius had felt a sharp elbow to the middle of his back and the next thing he knew he was being propelled towards the edge of the bed, almost smacking his head on a blurry-sighted bedside table. Of course Hotch had apologized but then had proceeded to flick on the lights as he had slammed out of the room. And of course the light switch had been on the other side of the room, furthest from the bed which meant Reid definitely had to get out of his nicely-nested bed to switch them back off.

The youngest agent secretly suspected Hotch automatically judged his agents for not possessing some sort of internal biological clock that caused them to immediately bolt up right at the first signs of the sun like greedy little light-seeking cyborgs.

Whatever it was, Reid wasn't sure if it was from their conversation last night or from the fact that they had just closed another case that Hotch was acting a little less mechanical than usual.

"Cold?" Hotch was sliding on his overcoat over his suit jacket. Typical for Hotch to be donning a full suit in the middle of nowhere where all they were surrounded by was a large multitude of mulch and trees.

"Uh…a little," Reid rubbed a hand over his right bicep, eyeing the ensemble Hotch had laid out for him: a lilac paisley Oxford shirt with a navy patterned tie, black slacks and his black loafers. Thank God Hotch had the discretion not to lie out boxers and matching socks too. Reid was twenty-nine. He could dress himself thank you very much. He was far from the meek little boy who had first entered the BAU with starry-eyed hazel eyes.

But as Hotch went into the bathroom to check to make sure he hadn't left anything behind, Reid put on his designated outfit anyways.

"Wear this. It's colder outside," Hotch emerged, tossing a navy fleece at Reid who flailed only slightly and caught it.

"Thanks," Reid smiled tightly, finding it hard not to be touched by the gesture. He didn't want to look too happy about it though. Despite last night's occurrences, Hotch was still his boss and most likely straight and Reid was still….well, _Reid_.

Both men finished getting ready for the morning in silence.

Hotch watched Reid out of the corner of his eye as the young man diffidently slipped on his fleece over his shirt and bring the corner of the collar up to his nose and closed his eyes. The Unit Chief could barely contain an uncharacteristic grin and chose to clear his throat instead, shuffling papers together and slipping them in the outer pocket of his bag.

His phone lit up with a message from its place on the end table he stood at. The words "PRENTISS" flashed across the screen.

"Hotch."

"Hey, Hotch. We're all ready downstairs. Where are you?"

"I'm leaving now. I've got Reid with me." Hotch stopped short immediately, resisting the urge to cringe as he realized how it sounded. His team couldn't know he had spent the night with his subordinate, especially when they all had their own rooms this time around.

Clearly Emily realized it too because she didn't say anything right away. "Oh, _okay_. Yeah, I texted him a while ago and didn't get an answer."

_Christ_. Hotch could practically hear Emily grinning through the phone.

"We'll be downstairs in two minutes." He replied, keeping the sternness in his voice before ending the conversation.

"Who was that?" Reid asked, sliding long arms into the sleeves of his pea coat. He looked so innocently sexy to Hotch it was unbearable. His short hair was mussed on one side from sleeping roughly and he had a long pinky finger adjusting his contacts in his eyes. The sight of his fleece on Reid made Hotch suppress something hot and gooey that emerged deep within his steely abdomen. Could such a simple image be melting the terminator-like exterior of the lethal man?

No. Hotch straightened, grabbing his bag and hoisting it over his shoulder.

"We're leaving." He said, ignoring Reid's question.

Reid blinked momentarily, surprised by Hotch's terse tone all of a sudden, but pushed it aside. They had another case. That meant business. He couldn't be hurt when that tone was not even unusual for Hotch to use to address his teammates.

So the young man shrugged it off, grabbed his messenger bag and go-bag and draped them over his shoulders so they criss-crossed over his chest and followed the handsome dark-haired man in front of him.

He just hoped North Dakota wouldn't be a repeat of the case they had just closed. He couldn't bear to see Hotch in that sort of emotional pain again. But if it did, Reid steeled himself to be the one to hold his superior up.

* * *

><p><em>No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. <em>

Reid shook his head. He shook it again. And again. And again. As much as he could stand it without becoming dizzy. It was like a fly had become trapped in his mind and the buzzing was echoing in his veins.

He _had_ to get out of here. He had to do it _now_.

There was blood everywhere. Covering every available surface so much so that the undersides of Reid's loafers – the very one's Aaron had picked out that morning, the morning that felt absolutely years ago- were slicked in a sickening, congealing mess of bodily fluids.

Reid normally didn't react to sights like this. He was very skilled at compartmentalization and dismembered body parts and blood weren't normally something that affected him but this sight….he felt as though he were drowning in the smell of death.

Overkill was evident. The work of a psychopath was in every blood spatter and pool.

The young man felt his throat constrict and he knew extensively the signs of vomit coming up through his esophagus.

"Reid, are you okay?" Emily's voice was a vague, stray thought in the back of Reid's mind as he dashed through the bodies that milled around the dismembered bodies and pushed his way outside, gasping for air.

Every breath wasn't enough to fill his lungs and he fell to his knees, ignoring the stinging sensation that coursed through his thighs as they hit the ground.

He needed pure air to rid his nose of the stench of those bodies. The cold Dakota air whipped at his cheekbones.

Suddenly a hand clamped down on his shoulder causing Reid to almost shake out of his entire body from surprise.

"Reid," Hotch's voice was hot against his ear.

Reid swallowed. "Hotch-I-"

"Don't worry about it." Hotch moved around to crouch in front of Reid, an unremitting expression on his face. "There are cases that sometimes make us question humanity. It's okay."

Reid nodded, frowning at his gloved fingers that were stained with blood. He shook them, his biceps twitching in irritation but they immediately calmed when Hotch put a gentle hand on Reid's left arm and rubbed a thumb through the navy blue fleece to calm him.

Reid sniffed. "My fingers. They're stinging. Everything's stinging, Aaron."

"Okay, okay." Hotch gently took Reid's hands in his, removing the gloves and discarding them before rubbing his fingers over Reid's shaking knuckles. "Calm down. Breathe slowly."

His voice was determined and calm – everything that Reid was not at the moment. And how Reid envied that. He couldn't put the pieces together as to how his mind was reacting this way.

"I'm trying."

There were a few moments of silence shared between the men as they examined the patterns Hotch was making on Reid's hands.

"Stay warm, okay?" Hotch pulled the sleeves of his fleece over Reid's hands and pressed tight. "Are you ready to go back in there? Or do you want to sit this one out?" Hotch already knew the answer before Reid shook his head, stood up and retightened the shoulder straps of his Kevlar, needing to feel the protective weight of something covering him now. He felt too vulnerable and hadn't even realized that Hotch had loosened his vest in an attempt to calm him down.

Hotch stood and pulled Reid into an embrace, strong arms crossing over and tightening protectively over his teammate. "What did you say to me last night?"

"After Morgan told me the surveillance joke? Essentially that Fanon's theories on prisons-"

"No. _Last night_. Tell me what you said."

Reid was silent as he rubbed his jaw thoughtfully over Hotch's shoulder, leaning a head against his superior's so their ears touched. He was quiet for what seemed like minutes were passing like seconds. He basked in the heat that emanated out of Hotch's arms and seemed to pass through even a bulletproof vest. Despite Reid's knowledge on body heat, it was still amazing to see how Hotch retained warmth. It made Reid want to snuggle down into the man's arms and never leave.

"The light in your eyes," Reid finally answered.

Hotch nodded, satisfied with that answer. "Are you okay?"

"I'll be fine."

"I'll check on you later okay? But right now we have a case that needs to be solved. And fast. This type of violence is only going to escalate, and soon. I don't want him to change his M.O."

Reid nodded, realizing he was breathing at a normal pace again. Hotch's calmness set him at ease and he sighed, letting his body melt into the muscled wall that held him tightly. He wanted to get this guy as much as the rest of the team did. As an FBI agent, he understood the time constraint they were under with this type of crime scene as their evidence.

"Stay close." Hotch whisper-commanded. Reid's heart skipped a beat as the Unit Chief nuzzled his nose right under Reid's right ear, the man's light stubble brushing Reid's soft jaw.

"Promise."

* * *

><p><strong>Awww, I hope you guys liked this chapter! Please review! I love reading them!<strong>


	4. Encounters

Only the quiet settling of the December night and the low whine as air whipped across snow blankets could be heard from Reid's place out by the back of the hotel they were staying at while they worked the case in North Dakota. Darkness had only fallen after a painful realization by the team that they had little to no profile on their unsub. The overkill of the family they had had been called to that morning was nothing more than a display of inhumanness – pure demonic behavior. It made Reid's hand itch so badly he had torn off three pairs of plastic gloves in the profiling process just to get the sensation to stop. And each time he had sighed or swallowed visibly, Hotch was right there rubbing the back of his neck or placing his hands gently on top of Reid's to calm the shaking. Reid had stayed true to his promise that he would stay close throughout the day and hadn't strayed more than a room or two away from his superior for the entire nine hours they were at the crime scene and at the local police station. Reid sighed again. His knees still stung from falling to the ground and he was sure once he made his way up to the room that there would be blood.

If he ever _went_ upstairs.

When it had been announced that the agents would be sharing again, Morgan had automatically looked to Reid who had looked to Hotch who had just stared right back at his youngest agent before declaring that he wanted to go over to the profile with Reid one more time. It made sense that they would share with that explanation though Morgan had rolled his eyes at the realization that he would be splitting with Rossi, an infamous snorer.

Reid tipped his head to the inky black sky, admiring the stars that sparkled innocently above him. They didn't seem to have a care in the world. They didn't have to worry about heading upstairs to share a room with their boss whom they were harboring intense romantic feelings for. They didn't have to lay down on a questionable bed only inches away from said boss and pretend like nothing had happened over the past 24 hours that had significantly altered their relationship as Unit Chief and subordinate. They didn't have to allay Reid's longing to crawl into aforementioned boss's arms and kiss him senseless until he couldn't breathe anymore…to hold _him_ and protect _him _from the dangers they saw almost everyday. To murmur that he would be there for him each and every second that he could be just as the previously mentioned boss had done for him the past six years of his life.

Reid felt himself stiffen as an intense heat flashed above his groin and he dug his fingers into his palms, partly out of sexual frustration and the other out of the sheer cold that had overtaken him.

It was probably about nine at night now and from Reid's estimates, the temperature had dropped about thirty degrees. _Stupid_, Reid cursed himself. He was only out there in his shirt, Hotch's fleece and his Kevlar to warm his chest. His bureau-issued jacket did little but keep the drifting snow off and his loafers and socks were damp from the ice seeping through them. The adrenaline that had been pumping through his veins all day had been keeping him from noticing the cold and now that he was a little more steady, his awareness of his surroundings were kicking in_. _

_Definitely stupid, Spencer. _

The hairs on the back of his neck suddenly stood up as he tuned in to footsteps approaching him. He was already reaching for his gun when a familiar hand brushed over the tips of his fingers that were dipping into his holster.

"It's just me, kid." Derek Morgan snorted in amusement at Reid's deer-in-the-headlights expression. "What's wrong, Pretty Boy? Why are you all out here by yourself in the cold?" Reid studied Morgan for a second. The agent looked as though he was genuinely concerned for his friend and his dark eyes sparkled in the black night. "Are you okay? You've been jumpy all day."

Reid nodded, frowning. Hotch was beginning to rub off on him and he found himself adopting the ever-present pensive look every now and then. "I just have a lot on my mind right now."

"Reid, if you need-"

"I don't _need_ anything, Morgan!" Reid suddenly snapped, wishing it was Hotch who had come down there instead of his best friend. "I don't need to sit this one out. I'm a perfectly capable agent. I evidently could not deal with the amount of blood here today, but that's it."

Morgan looked taken aback and held up his hands. "Reid, calm down. I was just going to say if you need to talk to Hotch I saw him keying into your room on my way down here."

"Oh," Reid took the moment to look embarrassed and his shoulders lowered from their defensive position. "Sorry. I-I'm just dealing with things right now. This case…among other things."

"Hotch?" Morgan laid a hand on Reid's shoulder and squeezed, a gesture that indicated to the young man that he was on his side.

Reid forced a smile, thinking back to the time he had revealed his high school nightmares to the agent. Morgan had been supportive then too.

"Yeah," Reid let out the breath he had been holding. "It's Hotch. I don't know what to do around him."

Understanding clouded Morgan's expression as he fit the puzzle pieces together. He had been there to witness Reid's "major depressive episode" as the young agent had previously deemed it within his first year at the BAU at the crime scene earlier. He had seen the way his friend had been around the bodies; he had just stared at the white board where he normally would be pinning victim's photos, writing out equations, drawing up a geographical profile or flicking through written evidence at a million miles per hour. Instead he had just stared as though his mind had been shut off.

Eventually Reid had calmed down and was able to make some progress on the profile but not enough for a complete consultation with the press. Morgan had figured that maybe Reid had been so freaked out because perhaps the family that had been murdered reminded him of his own family – a single mother left alone with her only son. Now, he noted that Reid had calmed down after he had seen Hotch gently rubbing Reid's neck with his thumb and forefinger, kneading out the tension. Reid had been leaning his head against Hotch's and the two men stood closer together than they had previously done so in the past. It was like they were in their own little world, all alone in the quartered off section of the station that had been designated for their team. No one but Morgan had seen them and it was a comforting feeling to see how protective Hotch was of Reid, that someone else recognized that Reid's innocence needed to be preserved.

"You don't know what to do? That's a first. I thought you knew everything, kid." Morgan let out a quiet laugh. "So what's going on? When did this all go down?"

"Last night, I went to go see him when we were still in Pennsylvania. He didn't seem right, after seeing those children. I-I wanted to make sure he was all right. I didn't think that anything…"

"Reid, man, you gotta chill out. Take a breath." Morgan steadied Reid in front of him. "Breathe." After a moment he spoke again. "Did anything happen?"

"Morgan, we're both aware of the fraternization rules among agents in the BAU. Forbidden. So, _no_. Nothing physical happened and I don't think anything could."

"No one has to know. You know you two aren't so covert, man." Morgan smirked, looking pointedly at his friend.

Reid visibly blushed and stammered. "Wha-What? Do you think the others have noticed? Am I going to get fired? Is _Hotch_ going to get fired?"

"_Relax_, kid. No, I don't think anyone has noticed. But I just saw that he's been a lot more…," Morgan searched for the right words in describing his determined Alpha Male boss, "he's a lot more _tender_ with you. If that's even possible for him."

"He has emotions, Morgan. He's a human being who feels, and sees, and takes in all of this as well." Reid was surprised at the protective quality in his voice.

"Hey, I don't know him as well as you evidently do, but I'll take your word for it." Morgan grinned and Reid immediately rolled his eyes. But he felt better talking to someone about this.

"I just don't like trotting around each other. One minute he's all…_tender_, as you so eloquently put it, and the next he's Hotch again. I keep trying to assure him that he needs to relax and not take in so much darkness."

"You make him sound like a vortex, Reid." Morgan snorted and ran his hands up the sides of his leather jacket to keep warm. "But hey, all the more power to you."

Reid nodded and met Morgan's hand when the darker agent held it up for a fist pump.

"It will work itself out. If tall, dark and scary is what you're into man, then go get 'em tiger."

* * *

><p>Hotch was already in bed when he heard Reid creep in somewhere close to 10 pm. He knew where Reid had gone and he wanted to follow but he knew if he did that somewhere in their exchange, Hotch might have crossed that boundary and he didn't want that. Shafts of light from the hotel hallway spread across the room and Hotch covertly opened one eye, not wanting Reid to think he had woken him. After their brief intimate exchanges throughout the day, it was simply easier to pretend to be asleep already than to deal with the potential for addressing the subject matter of <em>were they<em> or _weren't they_.

Hotch kept an eye trained on his roommate as he made his way in the dark over to the bathroom before turning on the light in there. Immediately Hotch opened both eyes as the flickering of the light before it turned fully on revealed Reid drenched in the wetness of the snow and shivering in only his light layers.

He sat up, sleep out of the question, tossed back the covers and raced to the young man's side.

"Spencer, what _happened_? Where have you been?" _As if he didn't know_. Without waiting for an answer, Hotch started unzipping Reid's jacket, noting the chunks of ice that fell from the stiff material onto the bathroom tile.

"I was just outside. I was thinking." Reid was calm as he let Hotch undress him, a gesture neither agent seemed to recognize as something that could be considered romantic.

"Couldn't you have done your thinking _inside_? Where it's warm?" Reid smiled at the fatherly tone in Hotch's voice. He observed as Hotch tossed his jacket on the floor and started carefully undoing the bindings to his Kevlar. "Why are you still in this thing?" He muttered, fingers working overtime in trying to rid Reid of his snow-dampened clothing and simultaneously trying to smooth over his skin as it was exposed – first his jaw, then his neck and then his wrists.

"It's packs extensive body heat." Reid countered, closing his eyes to the feeling of Hotch's fingertips warming his skin. The fleece was off and on the floor now too. "I can do the rest." He said gently.

Hotch drew his brows together but reluctantly let go of Reid's tie and guided the man over to sit on the side of the bathtub. "At least put your fingers under some warm water."

Reid loosened his tie and hung it over the doorknob of the bathroom door, letting his friend run a steaming damp washcloth over his fingers to stop the numbing.

"That feels better," Reid admitted, now working on his button down shirt. The cool air hit his chest with each button undone and Hotch was quick to spread a warm, possessive hand over his skin to rub away the cold.

It was almost intimate as Reid undressed himself and Hotch automatically running his hands to each patch of skin that was exposed. If it had been an outsider looking in, they might have thought that the two men were lovers, simply enjoying the caresses of one from another.

Once Reid was in his boxers, Hotch was up in arms over the scrapes on his knees from falling to the ground earlier that morning.

"_Jesus_, Spencer. You're as bad as Jack." He grabbed the washcloth again and lightly pressed it to each knee.

"I'm a doctor, Aaron, not a five year old." Reid protested, wincing as the steam from the cloth made contact with the torn skin.

Hotch looked up, a smirk on his face. "Spencer, you're a doctor of chemistry, engineering and mathematics. If I was to have a heart attack right now, I would not want you there with your calculator and periodic table attempting to procure my life."

Reid huffed and looked away for a few moments but was drawn back when he felt fingers on the scar on his right knee that had resulted from a bullet wound a year ago.

"Does this hurt?" Hotch asked gently, soothing a finger over the uneven ridges of marred skin

"Sometimes. Not now." Reid enjoyed the way Hotch's voice had deepened in concern. He thought back to Morgan and his conversation outside. Hotch wasn't so much tall, dark, and scary as he was tall, dark, handsome _and_ fiercely protective. "Do yours hurt?"

Hotch stopped inspecting Reid's leg and straightened up, draping the cloth onto the side of the bath. Reid's heart pounded as he took in Hotch's reaction to his question.

"All the time." Hotch murmured. Reid knew he was referring to the stab wounds Foyet had given him along with the pain of knowing he couldn't have saved Haley.

"Can I see?" Reid furrowed his brow. "Maybe….maybe I can make the pain go away."

"Spencer…"

"At the very least, I showed you mine so now you show me yours." Reid cracked a small smile and delighted in Hotch's lips curving upwards at the childish remark. "Scar for a scar?"

Hesitantly, Hotch leaned away from Reid and toyed with the edges of his faded, navy FBI T-shirt he had worn to bed.

"It's just me, Aaron." Reid pulled at the hem of Hotch's shirt.

Hesitantly, Hotch tugged his shirt over his head. Reid immediately swallowed at the sight. Nine blade marks ran over defined abdominal muscles and a strong chest. Once angry from pain, they were more faint than Reid had expected but he was still drawn to the sight in front of him. Sure, he had seen his boss shirtless before after they returned from a case or after using the gym at the bureau but this was different somehow. The dim lighting of the bathroom and the closeness of the two agents made everything somewhat more intimate.

Reid boldly ran a nervous finger over the one that slashed below Hotch's sternum. He let it trace downwards, familiarizing himself with the toned muscles and warm skin of the man he so wanted to love.

"Do they hurt?"

"You make it a little better," Hotch whispered hoarsely, his eyes never leaving Reid's wandering hand.

"I'm glad," Reid barely whispered, his pupils dilating. He looked up at his superior, _whatever_ he was, before leaning in slowly to touch his mouth to the scars.

A loud bang erupted from outside their hotel door and both agents sprang apart as if they had been electrocuted, wild-eyed. Reid's lips had barely made contact with Hotch's abs. A moment passed in which they both looked at each other and Reid swore he could see disappoint flash in Hotch's eyes. So close had he been to completely eliminating the walls between them.

"Hotch! Reid!" Morgan's voice called through the thick wood of the door, followed by several heavy knocks.

Hotch quickly tugged his shirt back on to go address Morgan and Reid dove under the bed in a spastic tumble. The Unit Chief wished he could dive right after Reid and continue with what they were doing but he knew he wouldn't. It was interesting to realize how he had gone from _couldn't_ to _wouldn't_ solely based on his professional responsibilities. 24 hours and Hotch was already rolling his eyes at his behavior.

"Morgan." Hotch greeted the dark agent, mustering as much sternness as he could given that the man standing in front of him was fully dressed while he was in pajama bottoms and an inside-out T-shirt. Reid had practically been naked in his arms and it took all of Hotch's internal strength to quell the beating of his heart and to not groan in agony at what was just interrupted. Since when was Reid…_muscular_? Evidently his training sessions with Morgan had been working in his favor.

"The station called. I guess they tried calling you but you didn't answer."

Hotch frowned, realizing he hadn't even heard his phone ring while in the bathroom with Reid. As soon as he looked back he saw the telltale blinking red on his Blackberry that indicated he had a message.

_So much for professionalism. _

"What is it?" Hotch already knew the answer.

"Another family was murdered. Neighbors called it in. We gotta go Hotch. Now."

* * *

><p><strong>Hope you guys liked this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it! Please review &amp; I'll love you all forever!<strong>


	5. Tensions

Hotch leant his head against the door as it closed and sighed, embracing the chilled temperature of the wood as it cooled his heated forehead. He could feel the roles of robotic, detached Hotch and intimate, unsure Aaron clawing at each other in his chest and he knew Reid was waiting for him to say something. But he couldn't. Familiar arms tentatively slid around his waist.

"We have to leave, don't we, Aaron?" Reid whispered. His voice was filled with understanding and shadowy disappointment and it surprised the Unit Chief. It had become ingrained in his memory that summons like this one usually resulted in Haley giving him the cold shoulder or a brief session of exchanging yells and insults.

Not Reid. He knew the job and its demands. He too could identify personal time and business time.

Hotch turned and bit back a groan at the sight of Reid in just his slacks that had previously been tossed on the bathroom floor. He frowned and gave a shake of his head. _You're an agent. Not his damn lover. _

"Dress warm won't you? None of this wandering out in the snow in just a shirt and jacket," he ordered rather coldly.

Reid nodded, knowing this was not the time to argue that he had been wearing more than just two layers. He let his head lean against Hotch's chest and dug the heels of his hands into his eyelids, disappointed by Morgan's interruption. He felt Hotch stiffen underneath his weight and he pulled back slightly.

"What's wrong? Hotch's brows immediately slammed together. Reid understood. _Didn't he?_

"Nothing…I-I'm just…you know."

Hotch stared at Reid before he rubbed the bridge of his nose. Yes, he was disappointed too. But minutes were ticking by and it was _Agent Hotchner_ time. He didn't have time for this and he could slowly feel the walls start to swallow him back up. If he was really in tune with the apparatus of his mind, he could feel the tiny fission of light glowing and dimming in time with his heartbeat. The bursts of light, if he was honest, were that he was almost glad Morgan had interrupted them.

The thought of what could have happened or what Reid and him could have been doing _right_ this minute was an unseen fear. A concealed and unbridled future; and unbridled meant messy and messy did not an agent make. Hotch wasn't a particular aficionado for the future – it held waiting folders and more deaths before he was able to prevent them. It meant facing his feelings; fighting them or surrendering them meant some emotional involvement. And Hotch wasn't emotional. That was _Aaron_. That was Aaron who he left at home. Aaron was who dealt with Jack and now Reid. Aaron who had suppressed a noise resembling a moan when he felt Reid's pouted lips on his body. _Fucking beautiful Reid needed to keep his fucking beautiful lips to himself, _Hotch glowered at Reid's exposed hipbones and the small dusting of dark hair that cut down through the middle of his lower abdomen and kissed the top of his trousers.

"Reid, I can't do-"

"I understand." Reid immediately bit out, stepping away almost too quickly to be a reaction to something. It was preplanned. He knew Hotch better than he thought he knew himself. But then he reminded himself that Reid was a profiler – and a _damn_ good one. Boy could shoot a microbe off a wall from sixty feet away if he had too.

"Reid. Don't –"

"What, Hotch? _Don't what_?" Reid whirled around. "We have a crime scene to get to. _Wheels up in ten, remember_?" He had felt Hotch's body go rigid when he had leaned his head against his superior's chest in an attempt to preserve what little intimacy was left. To not let the walls go back up. So Reid did what he had learned to do with years of experience as an FBI agent under his belt. He did what Derek did. He did what Rossi did. He did want Prentiss did. He did what _Hotch_ did: he stifled and suffocated his feelings until they were but a trace of emotion caught in his groin. Nothing more than a little fragment of lust.

He turned when Hotch didn't answer and rummaged in his go-bag for his warmest sweater before trampling into the bathroom to get dressed.

Hotch remained where he was, fighting with what little energy he had at this hour to retain what little compartmentalization he could possess. He despised being mocked and he especially despised being mocked by Reid. His fingers tingled as though the various plateaus of identity shifted into place like metal plates on an iron man. Captain America, as many other agents within the BAU department referred to him as, morphed as his protective breastplate. His furrowed frown acted as a deflection to any fear he would develop within a situation as his. His hands curled in on themselves and he pressed his lips together.

The darkness was back. In every sense of the word.

* * *

><p>The car ride to the crime scene was…tense. It was tense as Hotch got in the driver's seat to start the Suburban and it was tense when Reid fought Morgan for the front passenger seat. The youngest agent had practically clubbed the other profiler over the head with his messenger bag in order to get ahead. He might have been slightly mad at Hotch but he still wanted to be as close as possible. Another crime scene meant another bloody revelation and Reid wasn't sure he could handle it if Hotch didn't know he couldn't. Even something as simple as sitting next to the Unit Chief was just a small indicator that he hadn't meant to appear as cold as he had in the hotel room to the man he cared for.<p>

"Reid, what the hell, man?" Morgan huffed as he climbed in the back seat. Prentiss, Rossi and Seaver had slid into the other SUV. "You could've just _outrun_ me with those giraffe legs of yours. No need to get physical over sitting next to Captain America."

Reid turned to glare at his friend before shooting him a pointed look. Morgan knew how he felt about Hotch. There was no reason to bring it out in the open. Morgan merely held up his hands and turned on the music in the car.

Hotch eyed his young subordinate while he drove, making a note to stay close to him while at the crime scene. Reid didn't have to say anything to let the older agent know what he was thinking. His protective side took first gear and as he made his way onto a straight road, he let his right hand come to rest on the console separating the two men. He very swiftly let his pinky finger jut out and Reid immediately met it, a clammy digit connecting with a gun-calloused one. It was the smallest reassurance that things, now tense, would be okay soon. Hotch would protect Reid. He would be his rock and Reid would be his anchor.

A sticky buzz sounded over the radio and clouded the music with static for a few moments, bringing both agents back into reality where they faced toward in their seats and pretended they were both the uninterested men they had previously been only 72 hours ago. At least Hotch attempted to. It was at this interruption that both sets of ears pricked up at what was exactly playing over the radio.

_I wanna, li-li-li-lick you from yo' head to yo' toes_

_And I wanna, move from the bed down to the down to the to the flo'_

_Then I wanna, ahh ahh - you make it so good I don't wanna leave_

_But I gotta, kn-kn-kn-know what-what's your fan-ta-ta-sy_

Reid swallowed at the first line he heard, immediately shooting over the memory of him letting his mouth ghost over Hotch's scars. _Stupid_ _Reid_. He pierced a long nail into the side of his thigh as a small punishment for letting his desire get the better of him. Did Hotch notice the lyrics to the song? He had to have. How could it not be obvious what Reid's fantasy was? It _was_ to move from the bed down to the floor with Hotch. To make it so good he would not want to leave. Reid let his eyes very slowly slide to the left to see Hotch staring straight ahead. He watched as the man's middle finger stabbed at a button on the steering wheel, effectively cutting off the song and changing it to another station.

_Licky, licky, I love that, bro_

_Head nigga thatz 'fosho_

_I'ma lock yo jaws 'fo I go_

_I'm on this liquor oh so heavy_

_'Fo we fuck can you neck me?_

_A lil' head and I am ready_

_I want yo mouth, give me that Becky_

Reid almost wanted to whimper in agony as he threw his head back against his seat. _Seriously_? A song about getting a _blowjob_ was now playing? Hotch remained stoic and made another swift stab with his finger. The corners of his mouth were twitching in annoyance and he almost thought he heard a snicker come from Morgan in the backseat.

_Damn_. Morgan knew too? Hotch ground his teeth together and suddenly wished his middle finger was long enough to reach over and knife Reid in his carotid artery. _What the hell was Reid doing talking to Morgan about this?_ He was all too aware that Prentiss was sniffing things out and he didn't need the man who had previously taken his position as Unit Chief questioning his title as superior anymore. The last thing he needed was to be exposed as fraternizing with one of his agents, not to mention his _youngest_ agent. It wouldn't take Rossi more than a few tries to worm it out of either Hotch or Reid. That only left Garcia and Seaver. Garcia would hear it from Reid or Morgan and most likely it was only a matter of time before some atrociously pink cake or other delicacy appeared on his desk in a form of congratulations. Congratulations for _what_? Almost seducing his subordinate in the bathroom of a slightly seedy hotel? Hotch suspected Seaver knew a lot more than she let on. _That_ or she was actually just as oblivious as she sometimes acted, being new to the field and all.

_Keep it together, Hotch. You need to keep a reign on this team and on this case. Head in the game, ass firmly on the throne, hand on the scepter. _

Except his hand wasn't on the proverbial scepter. He wasn't King of the BAU. His hand was mingling in places it should have. It was tainted. Tainted with Reid.

Another burst of static blew through the speakers and Hotch turned his mind back to the eerie blue lights that shone out of the hood of the car. In the dark of the daunting morning it was almost pretty…_almost_. He tried to keep his mind on the bloodshed that he knew was expected. But instead he focused in on the sound of the music and the glittering black paint of the SUV. It reminded him of liquid onyx, of Reid's liquid-y gold eyes. He could stare into those eyes forever if he had to. They burned with emotions both dark and illuminated. In the hazy light of the bathroom they had narrowed into lust-filled slits, mouth slightly agape in anticipation to service the scars currently buried under Hotch's dress shirt.

"What's this song called? I kinda like it." Morgan broke the silence, his voice filled with complete gravity. There was no wavering or repartee as far as Hotch could tell but that same glowing and dimming of the light in his mind let him know that it was misguided. Morgan knew any and every inappropriate song. This song was no difference and he was just baiting the men. He claimed he was educating his Pretty Boy on the ways to get the ladies. As far as Hotch was aware, Reid needed little education – he had certainly seemed to know what he was doing while sitting on the side of the bathtub – and hadn't seemed all that interested in the ladies in all the years Hotch had known him.

_-Legs up, on the bar,_

_In the back of your car,_

_Latex, champagne,_

_Bubble bath, whipped cream,_

_Cherry pop tag team,_

_Can you make me scream?_

_I wanna do some dirty things to you tonight._

_I wanna fight, all through the night, night... _

_I am no angel _

_I like it when you do that stuff to me _

_I am no angel _

_I like it when you talk, dirty when you talk_

_Blindfold, feather bed,_

_Tickle me, slippery,_

_Cheese spot, nasty pose_

_End of the D.O. _

_Love machine, by myself,_

_Climax, hot wax _

_S&M on the floor,_

_I like it hardcore-_

"It's called…_Dirty Talk_?" Reid muttered incredulously, squinting at the red letters that surfed across the little screen above the radio. He straightened back up and adjusted his legs in his seat as he blushed furiously. Reid considered himself an atheist but after hearing the provocative and more than a little suggestive lyrics that flowed through the speakers in the car he was suspicious. How could all the songs on the radio at _2 am_ be of the same nature, especially after having come close to finally kissing Hotch?

"Everyone needs a little dirty talk now and then," Morgan replied in the same tease-free voice he had used earlier, as though he were relaying a profile to the press. He let his boot-clad food work its way over to Reid's armrest to nudge the young agent's left arm, causing Reid to let out a squawk of surprise.

"Morgan, feet _down_." Hotch ground out, grateful to be pulling into the driveway of the victims' house, where a multitude of sparkling blue and red lights were flashing frantically from various police cars. He was growing impatient at whatever game Morgan was playing with Reid and becoming more than a little furious at himself for actually caring.

Again, he moved to stab at the radio to turn it off but as he brought his finger close to the button, the song shifted into the next one. Although the lyrics from the previous songs definitely elicited inappropriate thoughts regarding Reid, these lyrics in particular stuck out to him as he watched the man he loved slide out of the car, eyes more than a little fearful at what awaited him.

_Breathe in, breathe out, _

_Tell me all of your doubts,_

_And everybody bleeds this way,_

_Just the same._

_Breathe in, breathe out,_

_Move on and break down,_

_If everyone goes away, I will stay._

_We push and pull, _

_And I fall down sometimes,_

_I'm not letting go, _

_You hold the other line._

He sat there for a moment, hands moving briefly over his scars as they came to rest on the steering wheel. There was no one else to blame for his internal conflicts. No one to blame for the unrelenting darkness. There was only one person to blame for pulling him out of it, though. And that man was currently walking unsteadily into the house, the sleeves of Hotch's fleece pulled tightly over his hands to ward away the morning frost.

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><p>Reid felt the sweat pouring in rolling series down his spine, down his wrists, down the sides of his ribs from under his arms and down the backs of his knees. He felt like he had become imprisoned in a heated vault. The UnSub was evidently gaining more confidence in his kills and this time seven bodies lay mutilated and displayed in all their glory for the team to pick over. The stench was unbearable but Reid let out short, wispy breaths from his open mouth instead of using his nose. The scene was messy, that was blatant, but it was the reaction that was caused within Reid that was messy too. His fingers were no longer itching but now his whole body felt like it was vibrating. His skin was ablaze with uncertainty. He <em>wanted<em> this guy. Just as bad as everyone else did. And he couldn't stop himself from stealing glances at Hotch who currently stood with a police officer and was talking in hushed tones. The way in which Hotch's face was creased into his traditional deathly glare let Reid know that this was not the time to come whimpering for help or to offer any solace himself. Hotch's eyebrow twitched in annoyance,

"Reid! Come look at this. I found these in the main bedroom." Prentiss emerged from the stairwell, slapping a pile of thumbed letters into Reid's gloved hand. "I think these were written by the wife. Do you think she could have been having an affair?"

Reid quelled his shuddering as he flicked through the letters. "You need me to read these?"  
>"Don't complain, naughty boy. This will take you a few minutes. It would take me years to read these, there must be three dozen." Prentiss quirked a small smile at the young genius.<p>

Reid gave a small smile despite feeling as though he was going to be sick. "You owe me."

"What have you deduced so far?" Hotch's voice interrupted their conversation and Reid just about jerked out of his body by the surprise. Hotch automatically moved closer to Reid as though to look over his shoulder at the letters but Reid felt a firm thumb work its way under his jacket. It gently coaxed the back of Reid's shirt out of his trousers and slipped up under his multiple layers to rub over the base of his sweaty spine in a calming manner. Reid momentarily was glad he had his back to the wall so no one could see what Hotch was doing. There would surely be slight uproar over their gestures if anyone did catch them. But there it was again, the conflicting Aaron and Hotch duels. It was an ever-creeping shadow.

"These love letters could be from the dead wife. Maybe she was having an affair?"

"Reid, will do you do a handwriting analysis? We could be looking for a vengeful boyfriend." Hotch spoke to Reid in his usual, unemotional tone of voice though his thumb had moved slightly higher in reassurance. He watched as Prentiss, Rossi and Seaver picked their way through the gruesome sight to discuss the way in which the bodies were displayed and how the families were connected. "You okay?" He murmured once Reid and him were alone. "You're sweating." He didn't like the way Reid was acting and he definitely didn't like the fact that he was unconsciously coming onto him. While at a crime scene no less. What had happened to his tough love pep talk in his mind?

_Head in the game, Hotch. Hand on the scepter. _

Hotch removed his hand and stuck it in the pocket of his long overcoat.

"I'm just a little hot." Reid muttered, letting his fingers quickly file through the letters.

"Well, if you need to go outside I understand."

Reid turned his head so his lips were inches from Hotch's, their noses rubbing together in an accidental Eskimo kiss. "Will you come with me?" He asked in a serious tone. Usually Reid wasn't one to ask for help. He usually deflected it until someone came after him or he went after others to aid in their problems – like he had Hotch – but he felt like mixing personal and work time.

Hotch's eyes were expressionless. "No, you know I can't. The UnSub is escalating at an alarming rate and we need to be on top of this. We can't waste time. I need to get a hold of Garcia anyway and see if she can run a few things for us."

Reid's expression fell but regained a sort of bitterness as he looked back at his boss. "Fine."

"Reid. You're an agent. You know the job. We need to be 100% all the time."

"You're totally contrasting yourself! You said yesterday that if I needed to sit this one out, it would be okay." Reid hissed.

_Damn_. Reid was right. He was _always_ right.

"That was before another family was murdered."

_Check mate. _

The two men sized each other up and their first encounter in the hotel room in Pennsylvania briefly flashed in Hotch's mind. He would comfort Reid when they were done. He would pull the man into his arms after they delivered the profile to the press…when they could rest. He ran his hands over his scars, wishing this had never started. Reid had never come to his room and Hotch had never let his guard down.

"You're right." Reid said after a while. He bottled his feelings up, ignoring the sweat that continuously poured down his body, and did his job. He pieced through the letters and perched on the bottom stair. He shut the hell up for the rest of the night.

_Breathe in, breathe out, _

_Tell me all of your doubts,_

_And everybody bleeds this way,_

_Just the same._

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><p><strong>Hope you guys liked this chapter! Sorry I had to make it a little angsty :( Song lyrics from Ludacris, Plies, Wynter Gordon and Mat Kearney!<strong>

**I promise in the next chapter that things will get better between Hotch and Reid and that Hotch will stop being an ass. **

**Please review! Just one click :)**


	6. Release

It was the echoing slam of the hotel door that signaled Hotch's return to his and Reid's hotel room. It was almost impressively dark and silent as the Unit Chief blindly made his way through the shadowy obstacles in his path to the bathroom. Reid was most likely asleep and Hotch was not surprised that the young man didn't stir at the sound of the door closing – he could sleep through a tornado if he was exhausted enough.

Light flooded the small bathroom as Hotch slid his hand over the switch and poured into the opening to bedroom. But Reid wasn't in the bed as Hotch expected. The sheets were mussed with pillows on the floor and the telltale signs of the piles of blankets on Reid's side all served as evidence that the man had been there previously. Hotch peeked around the corner and felt his heart tighten and twist in relief and sadness. Reid was slumped over the roll-top desk in the hard, wooden chair, still dressed, with his head tucked in his arms. An open case file lay precariously on the edge of the desk and photos of the crime scene they had just returned from were spread out in an organized fashion in front of him.

Hotch frowned, the corners of his mouth turned down in frustration. He was angry at himself for the way he handled his interaction with Reid at the second crime scene and it was like a searing pain that soared down his torso that he was so conflicted in his feelings. He liked the darkness that he enveloped himself in.

It was safe. It was familiar.

Reid _was_ awake, however, and he felt Hotch's looming presence over his form as he examined him but he kept his eyes shut. He hadn't bothered to take a shower when he had finally trudged up to the room and keyed in after several attempts to not miss the card slot. He knew he smelled like sweat but he was just too exhausted to care. He had managed to kick off one converse sneaker before collapsing onto the bed in a heap of layers and limbs. It was then that he remembered he was mad at Hotch and he didn't want to be in the same bed as him that night. So he'd tried to preoccupy his mind with the case and had ended up closing his eyes briefly for a nap.

Strong arms encircled his waist and Reid squeezed his eyes shut as he felt himself being lifted out of his chair by his superior. His arms were flung around Hotch's neck and two hands hoisted up the backs of his thighs. It was awkward, for Reid was only an inch shorter than Hotch, but Reid felt secure in his arms, being held tightly.

"I could have done that myself," he murmured, coming out of his sleepy haze and breathing into Hotch's cold neck. He let his lips barely touch the bare skin before he realized he was back in the bathroom and being sat on the side of the bathtub again.

"Well, I did it for you," Hotch answered determinately, seemingly unsurprised that Reid had woken up. He bent down in front of Reid's spread legs and reached his hands forward towards the buttons on the genius's shirt. But as his fingers neared the opening to the shirt, he dropped them. It was that same pain of knowing what he was doing and not caring that was preventing him of shaking his tightly wound emotions loose.

Reid bit down on his bottom lip and felt his stomach sink. He wanted Hotch's hands back on his body but at the same time he felt this miserable sense of blackness taking over him. He wanted to be angry and upset and he wanted Hotch to come after him and tell him it was okay to be angry and upset. He felt like this case was swallowing him up and it seemed like forever ago that he had comforted Hotch in his private hotel room and brought him out of his unforgiving sulk.

"What did I say?" Hotch ran a thumb over Reid's bottom lip to sooth out the teeth marks. "No biting." He smiled faintly as he let his hand wander to graze over the young agent's sharp cheekbones.

"I'm tired," Reid murmured. He toed off his remaining shoe and stared down at his mismatched socks. "I-I…I just want…to sleep."

"Will you shower first? Then you can sleep. I promise." Hotch's brows had risen into uncharacteristic vulnerability. His expression was open and calming. His voice was gentle too. Gentle and protective. It was the same tone he used in more social situations with the team than at work. Reid missed hearing it. "Please? For me?"

Reid snorted and a smile tugged at his lips. "You want me to shower for you? That sounds…erotic."

"I'll leave the room obviously," Hotch placed a hand on Reid's shoulder and squeezed. He leaned into the shower and turned the knob, the thundering water immediately becoming the only sound in the room.

The agents locked eyes as Hotch swung the glass door shut slowly. Reid's breath was steadily becoming deeper as he processed Hotch's expression. It was…_wistful_. His touches had been apologetic in their manner. He was sorry for the way he had behaved at the crime scene and sorry for leaving it early. Reid had had to ride back with Seaver alone. The entire car ride was silent as the young agents took in the facts of the profile and Reid had let his head come to rest on the cool glass of the passenger window, wishing he was leaning into Hotch's marred chest.

"Aaron?" Reid whispered hopefully.

Hotch turned back, shoulders hunched and expression pensive. "Yes, Spencer?"

"Um, what do you want in life?"

"Excuse me?" Hotch knew perfectly well that Reid was referring to their conversation from Pennsylvania but he wanted to hear Reid question him more. Know that his inquiries were genuine, not just another awkward filler for time.

"In Pennsylvania. You asked me what I wanted in life. I told you I wanted to find love." Reid paused, tugging at his tie and letting it flutter to the floor in a pile of crumpled silk. "What do you want?" He began working the buttons of his shirt. Long fingers ghosted briefly over the trailing closures and the shirt seemed to open by itself to reveal a sweaty but surprisingly broad chest. Reid was still thin but he was a lot more muscled than he had been a few years ago and it caused Hotch's mouth to dry out a little, his palms to clench and his heart start to race.

"I guess I want to….I-I want the same thing. I had it and I let it go. I let this-" he gestured to the open case file still lying on the desk in the room "-get to me. I let it consume me. I let it destroy me until I couldn't see my way through the darkness."

"And?" Reid slipped the shirt from his shoulders so it fell around his slender waist, still tucked into his trousers. He took a tentative step forward so the men stood only inches away from each other.

Hotch considered Reid's prompting. In all reality, he was tired of keeping himself buried under his work and protected behind his sharp suits and stern communication. He was wound like a fucking_ top_ that refused to stop spinning. He swallowed. _Would Reid spin with me? Would he still be there for me if I ever stopped? _

"And you helped me get through it. You pulled me through the shadows." Hotch took a step forward, a hand reaching around to pull the shirt from Reid's belt.

Reid caught Hotch's hands with his own, his mind swirling with thoughts on how their roles of power and passivity had come to be reversed. It was a significant feeling, wanting to hold Hotch tightly. He wanted to be the one to lie Hotch down at the end of the day and ease the pains of what they witnessed at work. He wanted to be the one to kiss the scars before they slept. His thoughts returned to his initial feelings on how he had been afraid of Hotch's hands back when they were clenched in fists in Pennsylvania. Yes, they were hardened, murderous claws that came out on occasion. But it was times when they pressed tentatively against the small of Reid's back, drawing him in closer, that Reid knew the true nature of them.

"I'm…" Reid could barely choke out the words as he came to the realization of how close his body and Hotch's were to each other. Their hips mingled against each other and Hotch's tie and suit jacket were long gone. "I wanted to be the one…to do that for you. I knew…."

"You know everything…" Hotch murmured, closing his eyes lazily. He leaned in to let the tip of his nose brush over Reid's jaw. He had tasted love in his life and had let it slide through his fingers. He had it firmly in his grasp this time around.

Reid's breath hitched in his throat and his heart slammed against his rib cage, leaping in fear and excitement. A steeling, furiously hot flash burned low in his belly, running up through the insides of his thighs at Hotch's breath on his neck.

Rough pads of fingers cautiously ran the length of Reid's exposed back and began to trace those familiar little patterns that Hotch loved to draw so much. It made Reid's eyes shut reluctantly and his whole body to tremble in response. He had never been more nervous in his life.

The shower was long forgotten and steam had clouded around both the FBI agents, enveloping them in a suffocating heat.

Reid's fingers found the front of Hotch's shirt and gave a small tug as an indicator of whether he should take it off or not.

"Light?" He mumbled. He felt Hotch nod against his temple where he was currently letting his lips wander over. Buttons came undone and the shirt joined the mounting pile on the damp floor.

To anyone looking into the bathroom, it resembled a sort of unwieldy dance. Both agents were controlled in their movements and it was cautious and awkward and familiar and comforting all at the same time. They were getting used to each other's touch and smell and taste. Such contrasting senses and yet in cohesion. Reid let himself be examined and he understood that he had to let himself be. Hotch needed control and to take his time. He held onto his boss's shoulders as Hotch nosed his way into the wavy strands of Reid's damp hair. His fingers unconsciously came to rest on Hotch's scars yet again. He didn't know what drew him to that particular place but since he had seen them last night he couldn't stop trying to ease them. Even though he knew he couldn't. It was a new instinct, just like Hotch's apparent love for nuzzling his face into Reid's collarbone and neck. It was like he was trying to snuggle his way into his heart.

Reid let out a breathy purr as he felt Hotch's lips press firmly to the particularly sensitive spot under Reid's left ear. "This…" he breathed out, unable to finish his sentence as Hotch's mouth clamped around his earlobe and began to suck, his tongue running the curve.

"Is nice," Hotch purred back. He hadn't known what it felt like to have someone in his arms like this for what seemed like an eternity. It made him feel powerful and vulnerable. He was inches over the line between superior and subordinate and his mind had shut down completely. He couldn't remember his name for the life of him if he tried. The rulebook was up in flames, the proverbial scepter discarded along with the clothes on the bathroom floor.

"_Yeah_," Reid's whimpered, his fingers digging into Hotch's waist as the older profiler gave small licks over his jaw close to his own lips.

Hotch's hands had drifted upwards, one now tangled in Reid's short hair and the other cupping his face. Reid felt like he was moving on autopilot as he mimicked Hotch's stance. Their movements had become sensual in their manners. They were exploratory and fluid and their bodies travelled in unison. Reid's neck was exposed as Hotch's tongue swirled over the sweat-slicked skin, lapping up the taste in the most predatory way.

Reid moaned and squirmed as he nudged his thigh in between Hotch's own powerful limbs, seeking out friction and solace. Only their hands and mouths on each other weren't enough anymore. Reid needed weight.

Hotch let a frustrated groan escape from his lips as they continued to paw at each other, Reid's mouth now devouring Hotch's bare collarbone. He let his tongue dart into the man's clavicle.

"Wha-What did you say-Tell me what you said to me, Spencer." Hotch commanded, taking Reid's chin in both hands and bringing their faces close together. He rubbed his nose with Reid's in an Eskimo kiss.

"Light…..the light…i-in your eyes." Reid had his eyes closed, his head leaning back in exhaustion.

"Yeah," Hotch whispered hoarsely. He needed that confirmation that Reid knew what they were going to do. He needed _Reid_. He wanted to be loved by him and to love him just the same, if not at a more fierce level.

Reid opened his eyes and it was a moment of electricity before Hotch drew in a deep breath and pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of his lips. Reid's whole body vibrated and his hands itched again.

Another moment.

Both dark pair of eyes confirmed it. They were crossing this line.

Hotch ghosted his lips over Reid's before pressing them firmly together. Reid moaned deep within his throat, losing all control of his limbs before grabbing Hotch's hair in his fists.

Hotch plunged his tongue into Reid's mouth in a searing kiss, seeking warmth and pleasure. Reid let his tongue battle against his partner's and they twisted together, both fighting for dominance.

Hotch moved to draw Reid's bottom lip into his mouth and he felt the adrenaline pumping through his veins at an awesome volume. Reid licked and nipped and marked up Hotch's neck, furiously leaving dark splashes in its trail. He was more aggressive than Hotch had expected and it drove him to shove Reid against the shower door where it fell open and both men were thrown into the sprays of water.

Reid felt hands on his drenched trousers and before he could even make a sound, Hotch had lifted him up and was pressing him against the glass wall of the shower. Reid immediately tangled his legs around Hotch's waist and ran his hands through his wet hair. He rubbed the pads of his thumbs over the furrows in Hotch's brow and forehead, smoothing them away and he watched as the man holding him up trailing blazing hot kisses down the middle of his chest, swiping at the water droplets running down it.

"Kiss me…" Reid demanded, needing to feel Hotch's lips back on him. They covered his, sliding his tongue in and out and in and out again. Reid mewled and instinctively thrust his hips forward.

"Reid." Hotch murmured against his lips. He sank his teeth into Reid's exposed throat.

"Aaron?" Reid whimpered. A tongue was lapping at his nipple now, swirling the bud until it hardened under the touch and Reid threw his head back when he felt teeth gently bite down. His own teeth were pressed down over his bottom lip but he couldn't feel the pain at all.

He let his hand drop down to Hotch's groin and let his fingers grasp firmly at the growing strain. Hotch shoved Reid hard against the shower wall again, guiding Reid's hand to thumb open his soaking wet trousers.

It was unknown as to whether both agents realized they were standing partially clothed in the shower but neither cared. They were too absorbed in each other.

"I need you." Hotch demanded, running his hand over Reid's hooked thigh. He felt his partner's covered length move against his lower abdomen but when he registered Reid's wet hand on his own member he shuddered, his hands instinctively coming up to push the young agent away.

Reid's eyes immediately went dark as he was lowered back down onto his feet.

"Aaron?"

Hotch shook off Reid's wandering hands, feeling the unrelenting beat of his heart in his chest and the way his fingertips burned. He didn't understand why he was having this reaction….why he suddenly couldn't do it. He couldn't cross the line anymore.

A tentative hand reached out to quell his sudden fears and before he knew it, Reid was guiding him out of the shower. A towel surfed over his back and around his shoulders and he was being held in slender arms in the warmth of their bed.

Their small oasis.

Hotch felt hazy and he blinked up at Reid. "I'm sorry I'm so weak."

"Shhhh," Reid smoothed a hand over Hotch's wet hair. "I've got you," he murmured, repeating it over and over again as Hotch felt himself being dipped backwards onto the sheets. Hands came to wrestle off his drenched loafers and socks and then his suit trousers before a comforting blanket was wrapped around his bottom half.

"I've got you," Reid's voice came again.

Hotch moved to kiss Reid lightly and the two agents drew the covers up over their heads so they were in total darkness. It was a comforting feeling and Hotch mustered what little strength he had to pull Reid against him, his chest pressed against a lithe back.

"I'm sorry…" Hotch whispered.

Reid reached behind him and interlaced his fingers with Hotch's before pulling them over his heart, pressing a small kiss to his knuckles.

"It's okay."

"It's just moving a little fast…" Hotch was embarrassed to admit it but he felt better after saying it. He felt human.

"It's okay." Reid repeated softly. "Are you okay?"

Hotch considered his words. "I will be. Stay close tomorrow." He ordered, grateful that in his vulnerable position, his stern command could still come through even in a whisper.

Reid dropped a kiss to his hair and smoothed his hands over Hotch's shoulders to ward away the cold much in the same way Hotch had done the previous night while undressing his youngest agent

"Promise, Aaron. I promise."

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><p><strong>Ahhhh they finally kissed! Sorry for keeping you all a little on edge with the ending! Please review my slash chapter &amp; Ill love you all forever! <strong>


	7. Titanium

**First off, thank you for the most awesome responses to this story. I love you guys for it and I'm thrilled yall love it. I rewrote this story so many times because it could go in so many directions but hopefully you'll like it where I took it :)**

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><p>The silence was dangerous. It was depressing and it was absolute poison in the veins of SSA Aaron Hotchner. It suffocated him and caused him to feel like he was sinking into complete blackness with no end to fall to. The tears that seeped from beneath Hotch's closed eyes stung the skin they touched on their downfall and he clutched at the man in bed with him. Reid lay lifelessly draped on top of him, blissful in his ignorance of his partner's tangled feelings. The silky-haired agent should have made the Unit Chief smile.<p>

The beading water droplets that slipped from the young man's drenched hair over his chest should have relaxed him enough to slip into a similar manner of sleep. His kiss-swollen lips should have resulted in a satisfied burn of heat. They should have wanted to connect with the open mouth that lay inches from his heart.

They _didn't_. It didn't.

None of it did.

All they did was serve to result in Hotch breaking into a cold sweat and the tears to fall faster. The boundary between superior and subordinate had been firmly smashed to pieces with each caress of lips against lips and brush of hips and thighs. He had lost himself further and further into his unbridled wanton desire as he had wrapped Reid's thighs around his waist and tangled his tongue deep within his throat.

Hotch clutched the sweaty sheets in tight fists as the tears soaked his eyelashes and cheeks. He had lost control.

"Reid. I can't _do_ this." He murmured into the poisonous silence, letting dark, silky strands of hair fall through the slits in his fingers. They seemed to leave inky stains on the insides of his palm. It was like he was holding onto a rope that dangled into a shimmering puddle of unknown emotion. He was desperately grasping to what little life he had in him because he knew….he _knew_ if he let go, he would be swimming in all that was Spencer Reid. He would be let loose into a tangled web of love and of lies.

"What have you done to me?" He felt helpless and frustrated and it made him clench his fingers momentarily and his heart seized in his chest.

"Aaron?" Reid mumbled incoherently, nuzzling his face into Hotch's chest.

Hotch realized he was pulling Reid's hair in white-knuckled fists and he released it immediately, stroking the waves back to where they came from. "What's wrong?"

It's an irrelevant question and both agents know it. Reid knows deep down what has shaken Hotch…his Aaron. It cuts into him like a blade into soft flesh, _simply…sinking, slicing._

Hotch's mouth is dry and his breath is broken. "I-I…can't-"

"Please, Aaron. D-don't do this. Don't shut down." Reid's whole body trembled in quaking fear and Hotch couldn't help but shift away to avoid letting himself be pulled into holding Reid close to quell his fear.

The words spoken were so quiet that Hotch almost missed them but he watched Reid's mouth move millimeters apart and then settle as his sharp front teeth dug into his bottom lip, a nervous habit if there was one.

Hotch couldn't bring himself to look at the agent. He felt his eyes burn and his heart beat a dull thud against his chest. He couldn't face the man he knew he was crushing beyond belief.

"There's no reason to shut down just because…_because_. I'm sorry I caused you to freak out. I-I…" Reid's voice died on his lips as he struggled with the shaky words. "I'm sorry I wasn't good enough."

The statement wasn't yelled or hissed or accessorized with a sharp object launched at his head like Hotch had grown accustomed to in his marriage. So often were words of a similar fashion hurled casually at the Unit Chief and then followed by the scream of a door being slammed or the angry steps up the stairs or even the crying of Jack as he wailed in desperation and sadness at his parents' grief.

No. This statement was said plainly and that was perhaps the worst of all because Reid truly believed he wasn't good enough. Hotch knew anything he said wouldn't detract from the sting and it wouldn't soothe the young genius either.

The bed shifted signaling Reid's departure and Hotch could only stare at his hands.

Tainted with hurting the most innocent man he knew.

The door to the bathroom closed, it wasn't slammed, and Hotch heard as Reid slid to the floor, small sobs sweeping from the space between door and floor, echoing in his ears. No screaming. It was a quiet defeat.

"You are good enough," Hotch murmured, though no one was there to hear it. The words felt thick on his tongue and he felt sick as he said them. It was true. It was him that wasn't good enough.

It had felt real and it had _right_ with Reid. Alien so, but familiar and in their small transgression they had burned together, too hot to survive. It was like ashes soaked the sheets of the bed and of the crime scenes – anywhere that Hotch and Reid had grown close in their entangled web of fucked up courtships.

_Christ_, what was he doing? He was _Aaron Hotchner_. Alpha Male.

He hadn't cried like this since the night of Hayley's funeral. He had cradled Jack's body close to his on the floor of his apartment…too cowardly to enter into a bedroom since bedrooms were spoiled with the promise of sweet nothings and subsequent murder. He felt a tear drool lethargically over his chest and it was like a wake up call. His tanned feet, bright after the carpet of the hotel room, moved on their own accord to lean against the bathroom door, one hand clutching the doorknob.

"Open the door, baby," he pleaded hoarsely, realizing only too late how _baby_ had slipped out.

"No," a strangled whisper came lamely through the teak wood as more airless sobs bubbled up.

"_Spencer_." It was Hotch's warning and he could hear Reid move away from the door before charging in. Reid knew Hotch's cues and that only was more evidence to how they worked together, moved in fluid cohesion.

"Aaron, _please_. Just leave." Reid's face was tear streaked and his arms were wrapped securely around his waist like an unconscious shield. He sat in the empty bathtub as though it were the most normal thing yet he couldn't stop what felt like shattered glass lodged deep within his veins. His fingers were stinging and curling into protective fists and his whole body broke into a series of shivers. "You…." He couldn't find the words and his throat had grown hot and sticky with sheltered air. "You're like _them_. You _leave_ when it gets difficult. You _desert_ me."

Hotch swallowed the tears that were caught in his throat. He was coming undone with every word Reid gasped out. It was all so much more real than watching a killer on a screen or facing them through the protection of a gun in his hands. The violence that was erupting in front of him wasn't physical. It was emotional, psychological, mental murder. And Hotch was the one with the weapon. Reid was a helpless victim caught in the weave of twisted feelings on Hotch's part. Reid was opening himself up and had since the beginning. Hotch was the man with the enduring ghosts of his past.

The room was suddenly, _violently_, hot.

"It's too hot…" Reid mumbled, pulling at his tie and shirt with shaking fingers. The rosy blush of his face had drained, replaced by a choking ivory.

"Okay, okay." Hotch climbed into the bath with Reid, straddling the profiler's thighs as he worked the tie and shirt off quickly. He wasn't going to think about what Reid just said or why he knew he was right. "I've got you. It's okay." He held Reid's head in his hands briefly. "Look at me, baby. I'm not leaving. I'm here. With _you_."

Reid was silent as he watched Hotch, and drew a hand over his forehead to push away his sweaty hair. He was momentarily grateful for cutting it short.

"Why are you always undressing me?" He whispered, taking Hotch's hands in his and lowering them to lie on his chest, seemingly resting his accusatory insults for the moment. "Why are you afraid?" His lips twitched and his eyes narrowed. "What are you afraid of now?"

"Now?" Hotch lifted Reid out of the bathtub and guided him to sit on the bed across from him, his mind whirling with thoughts on how to answer Reid's abstract inquiry. Both men sat cross-legged on the mattress, their toes touching and fingers intertwined.

"Right now. At this very moment." Reid stroked Hotch's knuckles as he spoke.

Hotch took a breath, surprised by how calm he felt – significantly better than when this had all started. He felt the heavy shadows lifting. "I'm afraid by what's going on around me. That we won't find this UnSub and that we won't be able to prevent any more deaths. That _this_-" he gestured at Reid and himself, "-will ruin our friendship." He took another breath as he continued. "That my failed marriage will haunt me and haunt _us_ if….if this thing works. That I have feelings for my subordinate. That I might be losing my grip on my team. That I won't be a good enough father to Jack because of this job. That my son will resent me for it. That one day I'll wake up in thirty years and realize I saved the lives of men and women, of children and parents and wives and husbands…but that I wasn't able to save myself or my family." It all came rushing out and Hotch didn't realize he had let his fingers wander to where he was holding Reid's face in his hands.

Reid swallowed and let his head lean against Hotch's bolster, pressing his lips to the palm. Both agents cried freely in their unspoken oasis. It was unfamiliar but they were paving a new way out of what had become a confining trap of blackness.

"I'm afraid too. I had nightmares and I confided in you about them years ago. I just realized I saw you as more of a companion than as a boss." Reid paused, stroking Hotch's forehead with his thumb. "We trust our lives with each other and sometimes that's a fearful thing. But even when I'm afraid, I tell myself that I have my family. Not my mom, but the team. _You_. And I'm afraid that I too have feelings for my superior. And that facts, statistics, patterns, _science_ will never be able to explain why I feel this way. Chocolate and peas may serve as evidence in the psychological dealings of love but they fall short when I question why I get this nervous, tingling feeling in my stomach when you're near me or when we're touching like we are now….when we _kissed_…that was the most natural high I've ever come close to, and please believe me when I say I know what the quantifications are for synthetic drugs like Dilaudid-"

"You're starting to ramble," Hotch slipped a finger to Reid's lips to quiet him but instead brushed his thumb over high cheekbones to smear away the salty tears.

"I'm not going to apologize." Reid's eyes had narrowed in their focus and he gave a small smile.

"I love it when you ramble." Hotch ran his hands over the young man's temples, marveling at his golden amber eyes and smooth skin, how they shone in the iridescent lighting of the otherwise darkened room. "Tell me more."

"Aaron, there are 86,400 seconds in a day." Reid scooted closer and Hotch unconsciously lowered his upper body so he was leaning up on his forearms while Reid kneeled over him, his words coming out in a breathy purr.

"And?" Hotch licked his lips, desperate for some sort of signal of what was coming next. He wasn't going to profile Reid. It would ruin the moment.

"And I'm not going to spend them drowning in fear. I want to be looking at you-_near_ you-looking into your beautiful brown eyes for 86,399 of those seconds."

"What's the last second for?"

"_This_." Reid let his body lower and pressed his lips to Hotch's open ones, meeting in a soft touch. It wasn't forceful but it was sweepingly passionate as both men tangled their tongues together and Hotch snaked his arms around Reid to pull him against his chest.

It would always come down to just Aaron and Spencer. The simple nature of both light and dark had been erased because they didn't conform. They couldn't.

They were _broken_. But they were broken _together_.

And that was enough for now.

* * *

><p><strong>More to come still! Next chapter will be ballin' I assure you all :) Please review!<strong>


	8. Transgressions

"Have belief in yourself that is bigger than anyone's disbelief," Reid whispered as he leaned further over Hotch, though words seemed frivolous at this point. No string of sentences or familiar sounds could convey the feelings passed through simple caresses or movements. Reid rolled his hips downwards into Hotch's, bringing a groan from the Unit Chief. He gently bit down on the ear he had been mouthing at previously and let his tongue linger, savoring his partner's scent. Hotch brushed his fingertips from where they had been buried in Reid's hair down to his wrist where he interlaced their hands, bringing them back up and kissing each knuckle slowly. Both agents met in a wandering gaze and Reid smiled before leaning cautiously back in.

Their kiss was soft and exploratory. Dry and chaste in its very nature, much unlike the previous night but this was different. It was driven by _need_ as opposed to _want_.

"Hi," Reid murmured, before letting his leg hook over the back of Hotch's thigh where they rolled over.

"Hey," Hotch purred, thrusting a thigh between Reid's legs, effectively spreading them further apart. He wasn't letting his thoughts wander and instead allowed for his powerful Alpha Male side to inhibit his body.

"Is this alright?" The young profiler asked, tracing his fingers over Hotch's slightly open lips. Reid rested a hand over his cheek and drew him in for another kiss, this one a little more aggressive. His tongue flicked in and out and he felt Hotch's hands slide over his bare back down to cup his ass before pressing hard into him.

"Spencer," the older profiler growled, sliding his lips over the spot below Reid's ear, which he had already discovered as an incredibly weak spot. "It's _more_ than alright." His fingers grazed upwards where they thumbed at Reid's nipples, swirling and pinching until they hardened and Reid arched under Hotch's touch, his hard member unmistakable.

Hotch shuddered and brought Reid in for another possessive kiss. It was as though now that they had managed to break through the barrier he couldn't get enough of Reid's lips, how they tasted sweet and tangy and how his mouth as a whole was heated and breathy. He thrust his tongue in and out in a quick series that pulled a small whimper from Reid.

"More, Aaron. _Please_." The agent moaned, running his nails over Hotch's exposed back. It brought shivers to the Unit Chief. That dimming and flashing in his mind had burned bright with each kiss and lick he delivered to Reid's lithe body. He brought a hand down, stroking Reid through his khakis.

Reid couldn't help himself as he pulled Hotch to his chest to direct him into giving him gentle bites to his nipples before swirling a tongue around them. He let out a moan before finding a finger work its way onto his lips.

"Shhh," Hotch murmured against Reid's lips before pulling him back into a possessive kiss. He pressed Reid further into the bed, and paused, his hand on the young man's belt.

Reid considered Hotch. It wasn't so much that the man was nervous as deeply considerate. Reid ran his fingers over Hotch's bare chest, once more admiring the scars that ran in mismatching lines. He recognized that the man was asking for permission and he threaded his fingers with Hotch's in an unspoken confirmation.

Reid sighed in pleasure as he then felt Hotch thumb open his slacks and snake his belt from the loops before tossing it on the floor. Hotch took his time making his way down Reid's body and the genius knew his partner was mapping every inch of his torso and hips, letting his tongue travel over the dips and ridges of his body. His trousers now rippled down his legs and a warm hand spread over Reid's hard-on.

This was confident, possessive Hotch. Not the cautious Aaron who had only been cast a small departing role in their games. Reid bit his lip, not taking his eyes off Hotch's narrowed ones, and lifted his head to kiss at the older profiler's sweaty clavicle. He moved his head to the side to suck at Hotch's collarbone and bit down in surprise when Hotch's hand began to gently guide his boxer shorts down with his pants until they too were on the floor.

Hotch immediately pulled Reid to him, crashing their lips together and ground his own erection into Reid. Reid threw back his head against the pillows and let out a whimpering breath in surprise. Previously, he had assumed he would have to be the aggressor in their actions but Hotch seemed to be the one inhabiting that role. Reid couldn't help himself but let his hands wander to push Hotch's dress pants down, allowing for his forefinger to massage the dip where his spine was above his ass. Hotch groaned and flipped them, applying force to Reid's shoulder in a silent command. Reid took it, allowing himself to be dominated because this was the reassurance that Hotch _needed_…to be in control and to let himself _feel_ needed.

He drew Hotch's bottom lip into a small bite before pressing a series of soft kisses down his throat, over his shoulders and down his trim waist. He nuzzled Hotch's strong hips, and danced his fingers over the muscles in his thighs, feeling the man beneath him shudder with great anticipation.

"_Fuck yes," _Hotch hissed as Reid kissed his inner thighs and the young agent massaged himself as he drank in Hotch's unbridled exclamation. He liked it.

He wanted _more_.

He wanted all of Hotch.

He mouthed at the exposed flesh as Hotch's trousers and boxers slid down and tossed off, pressing his lips to his groin.

"Suck me, Spencer," Hotch ground out. It was a command and Reid took it immediately.

He let his tongue flick out to lap at the salty-sour precum of Hotch's hard cock and swirled at the slit, earning a deep groan of appreciation. Hotch's fingers threaded through Reid's hair, not pulling or pushing, but just running through the silky strands. Reid took more of Hotch in his mouth and sucked hard, rotating his tongue in different directions, mapping out the patterns on the hardened flesh and savoring the taste. Hotch spread his legs wider and Reid let his free hand that wasn't pressing down on Hotch's thigh dance over to massage his balls.

Hotch gasped and rolled his hips forwards, desperate for more friction than Reid's exploratory movements were giving him. He couldn't concentrate on anything longer than the feeling of Reid's lips around him, tasting him. It was like he had been drugged and Reid was doing _something_ with his tongue that was causing himself to lose control of his instincts for all he wanted to do was dump Reid on the bed and fuck him hard and senseless until the agent was whimpering useless, incoherent words of passion. He felt the pad of a thumb rub firmly over his perineum and his mouth opened.

"_Shit_, Spencer." He reached up and dragged the agent to him, forcing his tongue in to his mouth, jutting his hips forward and causing their leaking cocks to press together.

"Aaron Hotchner using profanity?" Reid hissed in Hotch's ear, licking a stripe down his own palm before rubbing their hard-ons together.

"Fuck." Hotch growled, sucking forcefully on Reid's ear lobe. He reached down to stroke himself, needing to feel release. "I need-"

"I _know_ what you need, Aaron." Reid eased up off of Hotch before pulling him into a tender kiss. This one was softer, more reassurance. Each step was important. "And you know what I need. Our scars….they're what bring us closer."

Their movements became frantic as Reid worked Hotch closer and closer. He engulfed the swollen head of Hotch's cock in his mouth, dragging his tongue the length before sucking down as far as he could. Hotch's controlled groans had turned into outright panting and moaning that reverberated around the room and only encouraged Reid more. He gave a few half-hearted tugs at his own member but found he wanted to concentrate more on his partner.

"Soon," Hotch whispered, thrusting himself more into Reid's mouth. Reid only sucked harder, one hand massaging his balls and the other gently grazing his perineum in a teasing attempt to move further. Hotch felt Reid's tongue flick back and forth over the head of his cock and he could feel his abs and thighs tighten. "Spen-Spencer, _now_. _Fuuuck_!" He came in a blinding flash that seemed so hard and so long that Hotch was sure he blacked out momentarily. He felt the air from his lungs squeeze out as he tightened his grip on Reid's hair and let his other hand trace around Reid's open lips.

The room was immediately silent as Reid gulped down all that was left and gave small little licks to Hotch's wet member. The Unit Chief could feel his deep panting fill his ears and he knew his chest was rising and falling with great frequency. A shadow loomed over him and Reid laid next to him, smiling smugly, drawing a hand over Hotch's furrowed brow to smooth away the lines and roam through his sweat-slicked hair.

The older profiler let his head roll to the side to gaze at his youngest agent, soaking in the glow of his hazel eyes and his kiss-swollen lips. He sketched a finger over a slender waist and slim hips before wrapping a hand around the base of Reid's still hard erection. He stroked it gently, admiring how Reid arched into his touch and how his sharp teeth came to draw in his lower lip to stop from moaning.

"_Aaron_." He breathed when Hotch gave an experimental kiss to the swollen head. "I-I…"

Hotch silenced him with a kiss, plunging his tongue into the hot mouth to shut him up and stroking him harder. His breath became uneven again and Hotch knew Reid was close by the way his legs had spread obscenely wide and the muscles in his arms twitched as they caressed his own chest.

"Oh fuck _me_, Aaron," Reid growled as Hotch licked a stripe up the underside of his erection.

Hotch felt like every nerve within his spent body was ablaze. He wasn't sure what he was doing and it frightened him that he enjoyed it. The image of Reid's wanton self, completely undone, would forever be engraved in his mind. His graceful figure stretched out in front of him, long, elegant fingers twisted in the sheets as he held on for dear life, and ruby red lips parted to let small needy whimpers into the oppressive air were everything that Hotch admired because he didn't have. So much was Reid what he needed because their roles could become dynamic, one becoming the aggressor in their movements while the other was momentarily passive. Reid was a generous lover it seemed, wanting to please and remaining calm that this was as far as they would go tonight. Hotch knew if he let himself get ahead, they would be on a darkened pathway where thick thatches of thorns would crowd the foreseeable future. They weren't ready to cross that path yet. That remained a mystery.

"Tease me, Aaron. _Tease me._" Reid demanded in a hoarse murmur, guiding Hotch's hand to where it needed to be.

Hotch found himself becoming more turned on by the more forthcoming Reid. He mimicked what Reid had done to him and scraped the rough pad of his thumb over the agent's perineum. Reid ground his hips into the sheets, his toes curling in anticipation. "Oh please _more_."

Hotch gave another kiss to the slit of Reid's cock and then slowly took it in his mouth, trying hard to relax his jaw muscles. He let his hand settle on the exposed skin of Reid's hip, rubbing small circles over the sweat. He felt the muscles of Reid's thigh tighten and let up, stroking Reid until he came with a low groan, shooting white hot splashes of cum over both their chests.

Hotch collapsed next to Reid, a hand on his collarbone, feeling for the beating of the man's heart and closed his eyes.

"Hey," Reid's voice whispered gently in his ear after a few minutes. "Are you okay?"

Hotch opened his eyes, suspicious of himself and why he felt so calm. "Give me a minute."

Reid snorted before scooting into the bathroom to clean himself up. Hotch felt a damp wash cloth drag sluggishly over his belly and then Reid was back on the bed, dressed in a soft-looking pair of green pajama pants. He gazed at Hotch, that same serene smile that played on his lips the first time he had come to Hotch's hotel room in Pennsylvania.

Neither agent mentioned what just happened. It was understood as a conversation to be had later and Reid automatically slipped into Hotch's arms when the Unit Chief had also haphazardly tugged on his flannel boxers.

"You must think I'm weak," Hotch mused, not really thinking as he said it. His eyes shut firmly as sleep overtook his body and he held Reid against his chest. His thoughts became hazy, like he was drugged, but was too content to make mention of it.

Reid heard the words but frowned as he digested their meaning. He didn't say anything until Hotch's breathing had evened into a fractional snore and he let himself be held possessively in his arms, kissing his partner's forearm where a bruise played along a vein.

"Don't you know that I'll be there to guide you through your weakest moments?" He finally murmured, stroking Hotch's hands intertwined with his own. "I want you to leave them behind. Returning nightmares only have to be shadows, Aaron. The sirens inside of you are waiting to come out and step forward…the disturbing silence of our job is what darkens your sight. The people staring? They know you've been broken." He paused, though he was sure Hotch was unaware of his voice. "I…I was broken too. Just….let in the light…and hopefully you'll be alright."

Hotch's head had titled into Reid's, his nose buried in the agent's hair and his lips on his neck. He was finally, _finally_, exhausted.

"I'll be here to guide you Aaron Hotchner." Reid whispered before he closed his eyes.

* * *

><p><strong>Hope you guys liked my slash scene! Thanks so much for all the support on this story, I'm thrilled you all like it so much. Please review, it makes me smile! <strong>


	9. Battles

Morgan awoke with a start, a dark hand instinctively stretching for the Glock 27 that perched on the edge of the nightstand, another reaching to dig the heel of his palm into his closed eyes. He had been thrashing in the throes of a calculating reverie, visions of catching their UnSub filling his mind.

So what _exactly_ had woken him up?

He slid along the bed under the sheets, reaching for his gun to activate the tactical illumination flashlight and gliding it through the room. Rossi was dead to the world in his own bed, silent. So it wasn't Rossi and Morgan most surely would have woken up sooner if someone else were in the room so he crossed that out of his mind. Another noise floated through the thin walls of the hotel and Morgan turned his head slowly. It was a cross between a moan and a whimper and suddenly Morgan rolled his eyes and set down his gun, leaning over to switch on the light.

_Hotch and Reid occupied the room next to him._

There was silence again and Morgan momentarily thanked the heavens above for the sinfully skeletal walls that allowed him to hear almost every movement made as he pressed his ear against the paint. His chest filled with pride as he heard what were obviously Hotch's deep moans and his murmurs of Reid's name.

_Atta boy_, Morgan grinned, feeling strangely accepting. After his late night conversation with Reid in the snow he had returned to his room to mull over the younger agent's words. Reid and Hotch didn't make sense at all, both seemingly heterosexual men, but at the same time they did. Both had come together in the wake of their losses, wounded but powering ahead. Reid balanced Hotch's bothering Alpha Male ego, calmed his need for absolute sovereignty and provided an open shoulder in which to relinquish his burdens. Hotch gave what Reid needed the most: a stable and passionate shield with which to interchangeably hide behind and use as a weapon.

Morgan had watched as Reid had transformed over the years. In 2004, after joining the BAU, he had been this reedy, wide-eyed genius who, against all odds, thrived in a profession that really made no sense for him at the beginning. Pushing through a dangerous drug addiction and overcoming the losses of so many people close to him – Elle, Gideon, JJ, his father – he had blossomed into a man, still understanding and who wouldn't let himself become hardened by all that he saw. His chest and arm muscles may have developed finally after months of Morgan kicking his ass in the weight room, Garcia had bullied him into dressing more chic geek than clueless high schooler, and his hair had progressed some a gelled mop to a long, tangled mess to a short, sexy cut that showed off his impressive bone structure but it was all Reid who had trained himself to become more aggressive and outspoken, more _confident_. It was beautiful, really.

Morgan knew Hotch saw it too and that was perhaps the attraction. It wasn't about gender or sexual orientation. It was a geyser of light that shot out from Reid's hazel eyes that Hotch was drawn to.

Reid was his escape.

And _damn_ was Morgan proud to call the genius his best friend.

He crept out into the hallway, knowing who would be outside listening, and sure enough Emily was leaning against the doorway.

"Morgan-" her eyes widened as she realized she had been caught.

"It's fine," Morgan grinned.

"Do you think anyone else-"

"No and I think it should stay like that." Morgan ushered Emily back into her room. "Gotta respect our Pretty Boy's privacy."

"Oh I'm sure Captain America in there is respecting our Pretty Boy's private _somethings_." Emily cocked an eyebrow and smiled. "I'll see you in the morning, Morgan."

Morgan nodded. They were still on a case with the clock withering away. They needed sleep and fresh eyes for their next moves tomorrow.

"See ya."

* * *

><p>It was barely dawn when Hotch's hands pressed down into an empty space in the bed, still warm from the body that had been slumbering there only moments ago, and his eyes flickered open in worry.<p>

Their alarms weren't set to go off for another twenty minutes and Hotch's heart sped up as he blinked himself awake.

Steam rolled through the slightly ajar door of the bathroom, the water of the shower thundering and slapping against the tiles. It stopped abruptly and the Unit Chief moved towards the small room, cursing himself for his muscles behaving so lethargically as they awoke from his blissful sleep.

A misty steam flowed from the open shower door in the bathroom and as Hotch padded barefoot into the humid space, he watched creamy shoulder blades close together and a long, delicately muscled arm extend toward the ceiling in a weak stretch. Shadows from slightly jutting muscles circled like dark rubber bands around a broad but thin frame and small droplets of warm water descended slowly down slim hips.

Hotch slid his arms cautiously around an equally slender waist and pressed a kiss to one of the shoulder blades, letting his tongue sweep to the right to collect the water beading over the warm skin.

"You're getting yourself wet," Reid murmured, sniffing slightly and tugging the towel that hung around his hips a little bit tighter. He sighed, letting his wet head fall back against Hotch's strong, supportive shoulder. The older profiler kissed his damp hair.

"Why are you awake?"

Reid was silent. "Couldn't really sleep." He mumbled, turning around so Hotch was holding him in a gentle hug. Hotch lifted his chin for him so they faced each other. There was a certain sadness in Reid's eyes and it threw the man a little and he couldn't help but feel a little defensive. It wasn't angry or a deeply upset sort of expression. More…troubled. _Hurt_. He felt his stomach drop at the sight and the walls begin to rise up.

"We shouldn't have…?" Hotch let the words die on his lips, moving his arms so they were stiffly by his sides. "You're right. We shouldn't have done what we did." It was rejection that he was inevitably facing and he hardened his gaze on Reid. Intimidation factor kicking in. Emotions stored away into a dark hole. Arms crossed.

_Hotch_ was back.

Reid froze, his eyes wide. "What? No…I wasn't going to-I mean-No, that's not what I meant…"

Hotch stared, his expression etched into his features like he had stared down so many people in his life. He was suspicious of how Reid was acting but Reid refused to wither under his intense, determined glare and the young agent shoved his arms away, suddenly angry.

"You don't even remember what you said last night, _do_ _you_?" Reid practically spat.

The venom in his voice was unmistakable and it caused Hotch to loosen his grip on his own elbows. He knew all too well that Reid's defenses had flared up in reaction to Hotch's own steeling stance. It was a well-rehearsed battle of actions and reactions that these two men partook in. Hotch frowned, crushing the stifling feeling in his chest. He had held Reid closely to his heart all night…hadn't he? His words from last night were understandably fogged but they were few and far between…profanity laced with hints of calling for the man that had provided such pleasure to his anatomy.

"_Reid_." Hotch ground out as a warning.

They stood, facing each other, mouths set in unwavering lines and hands that had once caressed each other now balled into fists. The water from Reid's wet hair dripped down his collarbone, settling into the well of his clavicle, and sliding in linear tracks over his chest.

"You said, and I quote, _you must think I'm weak_, end quote. What is that _Hotch_? Is that some sort of insult? Was it because of what we did?"

Hotch faltered instantaneously, his shoulders lowering from their defiant positions. "I didn't-"

"Yes you did and don't you _dare_ lie to me."

Hotch had no patience for this. "I don't remember saying anything like that, Spencer. I apologize if that offended you but I assure you it was not intentional."

"Help me understand, Aaron." Reid's features softened and his voice was quiet, traces of anger gone. "Did I not make a big enough effort to drag you from your tightly confined cave of fucking doom? You couldn't open your cold heart enough to let me in? Was it the fact that I was a man that bothered you? Are you ashamed by what we did last night?"

"No-"

"Then what was it that made you say that?" Reid let himself be drawn in by Hotch's encircling arms for fear that if he let go he would fall to the ground. He might not even have the strength to get back up. It was a constant war of feelings they played with each other. Nothing was ever simple but maybe that was it.

They weren't simple. Their yesterdays seemed to erase themselves.

It was a new page they had to stain each and every day to remind them of what they were working towards.

And it was in that exact image that Reid found fault. He was tired of beating his fists against the blinding forces that Aaron Hotchner seemed to enjoy hurling his way.

"I just…Spencer, you don't realize…you don't _understand_." Hotch choked out the words, feeling miserable as he realized he was pulling Reid back to the beginning of their first nightly encounter.

"I promise I'm not trying to make your life harder."

"You're not," Hotch let his eyes fall shut as he sank to the ground with Reid in his arms. "Reid, these feelings I have for you are frightening. I'm not as strong as you believe I am and I knew…I _hoped_, you would understand."

The words were an echo of when Reid had been found in the field next to Tobias Hankel's lifeless body and Hotch had swooped him up in his arms. The pain that had ached in all of Hotch's body had been unforgettable. Both agents knew Hotch's choice of words now were intentional.

"I suppose I said that because…. I couldn't keep myself away from you."

"Why is that bad?" Reid faced Hotch and brushed his knuckles over his face.

"The last time I fell for someone like I am now they ended up at the blood soaked mercy of something I had done. I didn't protect them like I want to do for you. I couldn't stand to see the same thing happen to you….couldn't bring myself to hold you in my arms and feel your last breath leave your body." Hotch swallowed, tightening his grip around Reid's shoulders.

"You won't, you know." Reid pressed a soft kiss to Hotch's dry lips.

"How can you be so sure?"

Reid searched Hotch's dark eyes, so, _so_ dark they conveyed each flaring emotion so clearly. He couldn't give up…he wouldn't let himself do so.

An aching pain flared up in his chest, dulling around his ribcage. He understood Hotch's internal battles with himself – playing two roles, two people – fighting forbidden feelings – just like he understood the job. He wouldn't let himself become like Hayley.

"Last night," he began, "I told you something that perhaps you didn't hear. I said that I will be there to guide you through your weakest moments. I want to be there to help you graduate from them, leave the nightmares behind. I said I know you've been broken but _I_ have too. I said to let in the light, ignore the weight in your heart, and hopefully you'll be all right. We all have our internal wars …it's managing them and letting people help you that will temper them. No man is an island, right?"

"You're too wise for your own good," Hotch said softly, kissing Reid on his nose. "Confront the demons the dark parts of yourself, and work to banish them with illumination and forgiveness. Your willingness to wrestle with your demons will cause your angels to sing. Use the pain as fuel, as a reminder of your strength."

The last few words were said in unison as both agents met in a tender kiss, hands around necks and jaws, curled up on the floor of the bathroom where they seemed to end in each succession of their growing relationship.

"We have an UnSub to catch." Reid whispered after a while and they broke apart. He let his forehead lean against Hotch's.

"That we do."

"Um….at work.."

"I know." Hotch nodded, communication not necessary. "SSA Aaron Hotchner and SSA Dr. Spencer Reid."

They understood the parts they played in accordance with each other. Both agents held two distinct roles that interchanged as the days passed. Professionalism was the key to survival in their occupation and it was unwritten and significantly tacit to both parties involved.

"I'm trying, Spencer." Hotch finally said, bringing Reid up with him.

"That's all I can ask, Aaron." Reid smiled. After a few minutes of embracing, he spoke again. "You know we have a few more minutes to sleep…"

* * *

><p>The chiming alarms on their respective phones – Hotch's was actually more like the siren that sounded when prisoners escaped from jail – both agents to awake from their small morning nap. Hotch swiveled his eyes to his watch and suddenly sat up. He hadn't anticipated them sleeping through their first alarms. The sounds that echoed in their room must have been their secondary alarms for situations like this when they slept through their original morning calls.<p>

"Reid!" Hotch barked, throwing his body out of bed. He was grateful he had showered before returning to bed earlier. He buttoned the shirt that had been flung on the floor and noting how it was tighter across the chest the last time he had worn it. Softer too. Maybe all that gibberish Garcia frequently spewed about noticing the chirping of the birds and how the sky was so blue when they weren't working was finally paying off. Hotch blinked in the darkness. _Then again, maybe not._

They didn't bother with the lights in the room for they would be leaving in minutes anyway.

"_Spencer Reid_," Hotch repeated, pinching the bridge of his nose. Yes, they had figured things out only an hour ago but this was go-time. This was the job.

"Reid's _sleeping_." Reid mumbled into the nest of pillows he had constructed around himself. He felt a heavy throw pillow thump him across the back and he rolled over with a groan, eyes stubbornly shut.

"We need to leave soon." Hotch strode over to the bed, tossing the unhelpful pillow to the side. He bent over and pressed a soft kiss to Reid's slightly open mouth, letting his tongue slip in. He drew back, pulling Reid's bottom lip with his teeth before giving another small kiss to his sloped nose.

Reid's eyes fluttered open. "Reid here." He smiled, using the same tone he had done with Garcia while stuck in her office after falling victim to a bullet in the knee.

"Get dressed. Wheels up after breakfast."

Reid reluctantly rolled out of the warm bed, eyes half shut, reaching for his clothing in the dark. He snorted as he heard Hotch curse, obviously hitting his shin on a chair or the bed.

Hotch slid on his jacket, tucked his Glock in its holster and handed Reid's revolver to him.

"All set?"

Reid blinked in the harsh hallway light, rolling his sleeves up so his watch was in clear view for the day. Emily and Morgan were coming out of their rooms, the male agent bringing his hand up in a half-hearted attempt to muffle a yawn.

"Morning everyone," Hotch greeted his agents with his usual tone, though he was fighting to keep his eyelids open.

He was met with unusual silence and looked up to come face to face with Emily's skeptical expression.

"Isn't that….Reid's shirt?" Emily's eyes narrowed as she noted the pale lilac color under Hotch's suit.

Hotch's eyes immediately lowered and he cursed himself. He should have known he had grabbed Reid's shirt by mistake when it was tighter across the chest but he had been in too much of a rush trying to get the young agent out of bed and out the door. He didn't dare look at Reid who was probably blushing.

"No. It's similar though," he finally answered, the firm tone he usually reserved for incompetent LEOs beginning to creep in.

"And that's Hotch's shirt." Emily continued, jutting her chin at Reid's white dress shirt. It wasn't significantly larger but he had rolled the cuffs up to his elbows and small silver cufflinks peeked through the material, the engraved "A.H" distinctly visible in the florescent lighting of the hallway.

"Nope. I borrowed his cufflinks." Reid stated remarkably calmly.

"Why?

"Em, we have a killer to find. I don't think Pretty Boy stealing Hotch's expensive cufflinks are going to help pinpoint him." Morgan appeared, grasping Reid lightly around the shoulders and grinning. He shot the female agent a pointed look and then pushed her forwards down the hallway. "Let's go, hot stuff. I'm starved."

As Reid passed Hotch he leaned in, knowing not to get too close for comfort. "You look nice in purple."

Hotch tried to suppress the blush that colored his cheeks and made sure Rossi and Seaver, who had appeared from their rooms, were caught up with Emily and Morgan further up the hallway before swatting Reid's ass.

"Let's go, Spencer"

"I'm _trying_." Reid flapped a hand at Hotch before twirling the cufflinks around on his borrowed shirt. He realized he had worn more of Hotch's clothing these past few weeks than was probably appropriate.

"That's all I ask." Hotch frowned for a few moments, thinking back to how Reid had reacted to the crime scenes, and prayed that this case could be closed without invoking more bodies to uncover. "You'll stay close?"

"I'll stay close."

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><p><strong>This chapter totally took on a life of it's own I swear! But I wanted to show how Hotch and Reid's relationship really can't be as simple as others may be. Thank you so much for all the awesome support, I hope I can live up to y'all's expectations in further chapters! <strong>

**Please review!**


	10. Endings

"_How could you do that to me, Spencer?_" Hotch thundered, grabbing the agent by the shoulders and squeezing hysterically hard. He gave Reid a shake, eyes flaring with rage. "_Don't you dare scare me like that ever again_!" His features were hardened so much so that they looked as though they had been cast in bronze.

Reid looked down, the rain sliding off his sloped nose. He picked at his bloody fingernails but he could feel Hotch's fury radiating out of his body. He forced his eyes upwards to see only sheer terror in Hotch's face, surprising tears pricking the corners of his dark eyes. He had never felt such a strong tie to the man in front of him and he swallowed his burning regret.

"The UnSub would have reacted badly to authority…..I-I...was following the profile, Aaron. I acted purely on instinct." Reid raised a hand to touch Hotch's arm but the Unit Chief moved out of the way, comfort the last thing on his mind.

Hotch pinched the bridge of his nose to avoid throttling the young man in front of him. He could feel the rain soaking his dress shirt and Kevlar, settling both items like a weight on his chest. The gunshots and images rang out like continuous sirens in his mind. Reid on the ground….blood splatter covering his shirt…Hotch launching himself at the UnSub…his bruised knuckles slamming into the man below him.

It was all too, _too_, much like Hayley. He had let his emotions strip away his rational thinking. Reid brought out the pure monster in him, the monster he worked so hard to bury deep within himself. He closed his eyes as he recalled.

As he remembered.

* * *

><p>The color had been a vicious vermillion on his hands. The sound had been sticky static over the communication piece placed solidly in his ear. The smell had been damp, deathly. The feeling was something that had seared itself onto the heart of one Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner and it clung to him like rotting flesh to bone.<p>

It could have been mere moments or hours earlier since he had listened to the profile echoing in his ears. _White male, between the ages of 30 to 45, around 6ft and physically fit, most likely suffering from the loss of his own family, medical background though he was unorganized and irrational, no respect for authority. _The description continued. It had felt like hours since he had barreled into one of the Bureau SUVs with Rossi and Prentiss after a tip came through that a man matching the description to their profile had been spotted entering a house by a neighbor in downtown North Dakota. Hours since they had been at a standstill outside the house, watching as a Mr. Jason Ford held the two remaining members of the Straiton family hostage, armed with a Sig 1911 and a large kitchen knife.

It could have been mere moments or hours earlier since he had watched Reid walking calmly into the residence of the Straiton family, Revolver and Kevlar abandoned with Prentiss. He had protested, teeth grinding together in fury and anxiety, but Reid had been persistent. The question _are you questioning my profiling skills _hung in the air and Hotch couldn't hold the man back. His weapon was the fact that he did not resemble the stereotypical FBI agent.

"Hotch if you go in, he'll see you as the enemy. He'll react violently to your Alpha Male personality."

_I'll stay safe_. It was unspoken but implied. _I promise, Aaron._

The Unit Chief was suffocated by the overwhelming scent of his sweat that seemed to pour in rivers down between his shoulder blades to pool in the small of his back.

Reid's voice had conveyed a wavering confidence and Hotch knew Reid was reacting negatively to the scene around him. He had known this was going to end badly after he had comforted Reid back at the first crime scene, holding his hand out in the snow only days ago. They had three dead now when they arrived with the mother and daughter were being held hostage.

"I'm with the FBI." Reid's voice was so small. So _unsure_.

Hotch's heart slammed against his ribcage and he wanted to claw his way through the SWAT men that were stationed at the front patio of the house. The thought of _his_ Reid in danger made him want to dry heave. His agent. His…lover.

A smattering of rain had begun to drizzle from the skies, clouding Hotch's vision for a few seconds. His earpiece crackled and Reid's small voice grew panicked.

"Please-"

"Hotch!" Morgan's voice had already come and gone as the Unit Chief neared the front door behind SWAT. He wasn't listening.

A white hot flash of anger exploded within Hotch's chest as he heard Reid grunt in pain as he was hit in the stomach by the gun.

_No. No. No. No. _

He couldn't lose Reid. No. God no. It was all too _fucking_ similar. His harsh breaths were pushed through his nose like a dragon and his fingers curled around the trigger of his gun.

"Agent Hotchner!" The no-name LEO. A hand had clapped down on his shoulder to prevent him from entering the house to go after Reid and he whirled around, almost aiming his Glock at the officer.

"I'm going after my agent." Hotch leaned in close, disgusted by the smell of nicotine on the man's breath. "Stay out of my way," he growled before his right foot had come slamming down against the wood of the door. Darkness enveloped him from the unlit front hallway and his eyes narrowed. He felt as though he had entered a tunnel, the end only becoming Reid's safety. He had needed to feel the man in his arms. To savor the feeling of a warm body against another.

_He hadn't wanted to let the light die. Not like this._

_Three breathes. Three steps forward. _

Reid's pain was palpable through the earpiece as another grunt escaped his lips and the gun came down again against his forehead. The sound of a body dropping to the floor came over the speaker.

Through another door.

_Clear._

Living room.

_Clear_.

They were in the kitchen.

_Breathe. Lunge. _

"FBI, drop your weapon!"

He had been faced with blue eyes as cold and clear as glass. A huge behemoth of a man hovered over Reid and his young agent, the man who had made his heart swell, lay on the floor among the blood of the victims, only minor bruises surfacing.

Hotch felt his feet lift on their own accord, gun firing steadily, and legs tightening and loosening with each charging movement. Fists balled together and connected with the UnSub, Reid becoming the invisible motivation as Hotch had let the ugly side in him inhibit his body.

Reid relinquished his fighting breaths to the darkness.

He had sunk down to his knees; the sound of footsteps and gunshots erupting had caused an achingly painful burn in his ears and throat.

He slumped into suspended arms, eyes slowly shutting despite the cries and pleas of Aaron Hotchner that swirled in muggy blackness around his mercifully blank mind.

* * *

><p>Hotch opened his eyes again, meeting Reid's wet hazel ones. His body was cold as he relived his past actions. The image of Reid on the floor made his blood scalding hot and it was directed at the man in front of him.<p>

_How could he leave Hotch in the same situation he had been only a year ago? _

They were explosive as a pair, both in the good and the bad nature, and they were volatile in their feelings for each other. That was evident. But Hotch knew that what few sparkles they held in their hearts for each other had the potential to liquidate to rage as soon as it appeared and disappeared. They couldn't mix personal and professional without the man's demons coming to light whenever Reid abandoned his rationality.

"I can't do this anymore, Spencer."

Reid's intake of breath was audible despite the shriek of the rain that fell around them. His expression looked like someone had slapped him viciously across the face.

"Wha-What?"

"I can't _fucking_ do this, Reid!" Hotch exploded, slamming a hand down on the hood of the Suburban, but Reid didn't seem to notice it. He remained stoic, staring into his superior's eyes with unadulterated vehemence. It was a look Hotch had only witnessed once over the time of Reid's Dilaudid addiction. But just as quickly as it had flashed in his eyes it died, replaced by an overwhelming mixture of hurt and confusion.

"Why?"

"I don't have to justify my actions, Reid!"

"No. You don't." Reid crossed his arms and swallowed. "But you do have to justify them to _me_. _Spencer_. Not to your subordinate, not to SSA Dr. Reid but to your friend, Spencer, who would give you the world if he could. To the man who came to your door at God only knows what time to make sure that you were okay. That you _would_ be okay."

"I would have been okay without you." Hotch lied. He knew it wasn't true but he had no other escape out of the conversation. He knew he could completely shatter Reid, put him down, but he also knew he would be the one to have further to fall if he lost the man.

Reid looked down once more, observing the pools of dirty water that collected in the wells of his loafers. He thought in hearing those words he would feel as though his body was on fire but it unnervingly different. It was like a blunt ache that seeped from each crevice of his body, like someone dragging ragged glass over his limbs. He took one last calming breath before he spoke, for he knew his next words would surely sever any chance of tranquility.

"I wasted my time with you," he finally whispered sadly.

Hotch didn't reply but his lips twisted in anguish at those words. It was an uncanny mirroring of Hayley who spoke those same words only a year ago. And the hardest part to swallow was that it was probably true.

_Why the fuck did Reid put up with me? _

"I'm sorry but it was too…_I_ was too-" Hotch let the words die, struggling to keep his voice from cracking.

Reid let out an airless sob, letting himself break completely. "I just…. I felt like I was _drowning_, Aaron. I was loosing myself in you. But I never wanted to give up. You have to understand that." He choked on his breath as he fought with keeping his tone from becoming hysterical. "If you wish to end it then I have to respect your decision."

Hotch nodded, squeezing his eyes shut. He understood. He had been served. He had lost himself in Reid just the same way.

"I'm better off alone. Trust me."

Reid stepped forward and cupped Hotch's cheek, smoothing away a tear. "I think because you know I'll always be there…maybe that's why you don't care. Don't forget."

"I won't." Hotch took Reid's hand in his and kissed the palm, flattening it against his face, drinking in the feeling of the soft skin on his rough cheek and savoring the feeling for all that it was worth. Because it would be gone soon, he knew. "It's been me pulling you into the dark, Spencer. And you can't let me."

* * *

><p>They fell asleep together for the last time in Hotch's bed, Reid held tightly in his lover's arms and Hotch's hands drawing lazy patterns up and down his back as he had on that fateful night in Pennsylvania. It was dawn when the Unit Chief awoke, arms roaming instinctively for his partner. He felt his chest tighten as he realized he was waking up to an empty room for the first time in weeks and he moved to sit with his head in his hands on the edge of the bed.<p>

Tears couldn't come for all they had shed.

He had fought too little for them and he was now too late to stop it.

The windows had been opened with Reid's departure and the weak sun poured through, illuminating a pool of radiance on the carpet floor.

He was broken…burned…and he closed his eyes in defeat.

A suddenly, one single tear fell loose from under damped eyelashes, rolling slowly over his cheek down to his lips.

The lips Spencer Reid had kissed.

Another tear came. Then another.

Before Hotch knew it he was crying. Crying for all that he had given up. For all that he had missed out on. For all that he couldn't give to Reid, the person he wanted to give it all too. It wasn't even understandable but he cried for the loss of opportunities and for the regrets of shattering the young agent to pieces with his reckless words. He had figuratively beaten the life out of the man.

He clenched his hands together.

The hands Spencer Reid had held in his own.

Spencer Reid, who he had watched walk away and out of his life.

And _finally_.

Finally it was light.

* * *

><p><strong>Thank you for everyone who has reviewed and supported this story! It really means a lot! This chapter was probably the hardest to write and I'll admit, I cried a little while doing so. Again, thank you!<strong>

**Please review!**


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